Tin Roof, Rusted

Wordless Wednesday: Art

2012-02-01T17:48:00.000-06:00

Walking Birdie

2012-01-29T19:24:00.000-06:00

Dude. Duuuuuuude.

Food Fights

2012-01-26T11:27:00.086-06:00

A long, long, long ass time ago I read the Omnivore's Dilemma. I mean it was a rilly, rilly long time ago because that book is huge and I don't have time for that shit anymore so forgive me for any inaccuracies in my recollection. Anyways, I learned that when we are leetle teeny bebehs we have what is called food neophilia which basically means that we will eat ANYTHING. This is some sort of base instinct to ensure that our offspring don't starve to death when they are at their most vulnerable.

Later on in life humans develop food neophobia, the fear of new foods, to make sure we don't go around indiscriminately shoving crap in our faces and accidentally poisoning ourselves with toxic berries or rank meat. This process is pretty much evident in any toddler but eventually, with the exception of some remarkably PITA adults, we grow out of it.

Watching Wren horf down everything in her path makes me long for the days when Calder was in his neophiliac stage. While he never quite took to new foods with her level of enthusiasm, he would at least eat them without a huge friggin' production. Sure Calder has been a picky eater in the past. Calder definitely went through a nuggets and PB&J-only stage and he still has a long list of items that he WILL NOT EAT such at green leafy veggies, pork chops and things with even the faintest whiff of spice but there are a ton of other relatively healthy foods that he is more than happy to chow on, so I don't put up much of a fight with him about that kind of thing. Fine, you don't like spinach, eat half a bell pepper. That works for me too. He just has to try a food at least once to satisfy me.

So the problem isn't what he won't eat, it's what he will eat and how long it takes him to eat it. Even meals with foods he likes, hell, foods he loves, are protracted dawdle-fests. It took him two hours to eat one packet of instant oatmeal last weekend. TWO HOURS. He's even broken the 60 minute make with a goddam Happy Meal. A normal meal stops being family time and becomes one of those installation pieces you see in a museum where it's just a person sitting there doing some mundane task for hours on end while a bunch of other people shuffle past. It's eating as performance art. Two hour oatmeal performances are no problem provided we all have nothing else going on in our lives but the refusing to eat in a timely manner becomes much more of a issue come dinner time.

The endless dinner means either we cut short the bedtime routine of snuggles and books and cause a tantrum or alternately, let Calder stay up way past his bedtime to accommodate them. Dinnertime has begun to take up so much time that baths are almost totally off the table at this point. I do offer Calder the option to not finish his plate but of course no clean plate means no dessert and god forbid he doesn't get a dessert. That's another tantrum. I blame Bruce for that one. Man's got a sweet tooth and is totally oblivious to the antagonistic nature of eating Sour Patch Kids in front of a boy who is struggling with the last three scraps of spinach on his plate. We have tried several things to remedy this. Turning off the TV, setting a timer, taking away his plate if he gets up too many times but pretty much anything that involves us clearing his food before he's good and ready ends up with him on the floor screaming. And of course that kind of behavior does not segue into a smooth bedtime. Still mad about his food, Calder will piff around with his jammies and splash in the sink rather than brush his teeth and waste even more precious pre-bed routine time. So then tantrum. And Calder's screaming leads to me doing my own screaming and then the baby cries and then no one is happy and I am the only one who wants to go to bed.

Granted this doesn't happen EVERY night but it occurs enough to make me want to do something to fix it. Obviously the solution is A. Making dessert a sometimes food (Bruce) and B. Setting a time limit for him to eat dinner before it's taken away and sticking to it. What I need to know is how long that time limit should be. Is 30 minutes a reasonable amount of time to expect a four year old to be able to finish a plate of spaghetti? An hour seems excessive, perhaps 45 minutes? Maybe I could just service him tater tots and cheese shavings every night, even with all his procrastinating might Calder can't make those last for more than ten.

Wordless Wednesday: Kitty Kuddles

2012-01-25T22:02:00.001-06:00

Friday Film Fest: Standing Baby

2012-01-20T12:16:00.000-06:00

I didn't put up a Wednesday post. Not because of some SOPA protest because I am too lazy to even bother throwing up one uncaptioned photograph.

So how about I do that now? I present to you... Standing baby. STANDING BAAAY-BEE. She has the leg muscles of a much older bay-bee.

And as an extra bonus, some video. Of Wren doing exactly what she's doing in the picture. Now with more extra annoying mommy voice.

Diabeetus

2012-01-20T11:40:00.001-06:00

All your bacons are belong to me

It's tough to imagine that a cat who would steal full strips of bacon off your plate would have The Sugar. But it is so. I knew something was wrong when this:

Fat Cat

Became this:

Flat Cat

Yes, I know, a fat cat losing weight is supposed to be a good thing but not if it happens without doing anything different. When I first started noticing the weight loss I began thinking about taking him in and then in the last month or so it became pretty obvious that even though he ate constantly, Molson was still getting skinnier. Then there was the thirst. And the peeing. ALLLLLLL the peeing. I've read enough Baby Sitters Club books to know what the symptoms of diabetes are. But I kept putting is off. Work's been busy and making Bruce take the cat to the vet with both kids just seemed sort of mean. Then yesterday happened. Molson started... leaking...stuff. And some red stuff was there and it was gross and I spent all night laying in bed awake worrying about him and trying not to think about what he was doing to my sheets. That I was at present sleeping on. You know you love your pets when you don't kick them out of bed even when they are dripping something out of their ass onto you. It just seems too mean.

So instead of the planned vet appointment I had for next week, I rushed him over this morning and had my suspicions confirmed. In the grand scheme of the things diabetes is way better than cat cancer of renal failure so I'll take it. To start off we have to give him special food and insulin shots twice a day. And holy shit, diabetic people without insurance, how do you not die immediately from not being able to afford that shizz? I am debating the benefits of telling my HR department that Calder's name has been changed to something even MORE Canadian just so I can get that business taken out of my Flex account. In two weeks Molson will go back o have his glucose levels tested again and have his meds adjusted if necessary. I am pretty sure there are lots of people who have cats that live long lives well after being diagnosed with diabetes so I am hoping for the best. I mean he can deal with Calder, a serious medical condition should be nothing.

Girls Weekend

2012-01-15T07:57:00.000-06:00

Since we met way back in the Pleistocene era, Bruce's hockey coaching has always taken him all over the place. Back in the day before dog/marriage/kids, I used to go with him all the time. I have been treated to some of the finer Best Westerns all over the greater New England and Midwest areas. Hell, I even got a trip to Austria out of it. Nowadays, I don't go so much. Getting someone to watch the animals is a pain and have you ever tried to sleep in a hotel room with one bed and two kids? Plus, watching all the hockey moms gives me a very real glimpse of my near future. Once, when he was coaching teenagers and I was barely just out of being one myself, I was asked by a parent from an opposing team, "Which one is yours?" She was a little confused when I said, "The tall bald one who won't stop yelling." It used to seem like such a far away thing, me as a fleece-clad, slightly chunky woman whose only accessories involve hockey sticks and my kid's jersey number. That's... not for me. I'd like to keep my head buried in the ice just a bit longer, thanks.

But then Bruce told me about the games he had scheduled at the Wisconsin Dells (The Waterpark Capital of the World! tm) and I knew Calder would be all over it. Me? Not so much. Waterparks mean bathing suits. I would rather go stand in my backyard nakesd in the six inches of snow than wear a bathing suit in public right now. Although by Wisconsin standard, I may yet be considered skinny. And yes, that is me putting someone else down in order to make myself feel better. Wisconsin can go cry into its cheese brats if it is seriously offended.

Because I didn't want to go, Bruce offered to do me a real solid and suggested he take both kids so I could have some alone time. That sounded really, REALLY appealing, but I know three days of Wen being away from my boobs would devastate my supply. Plus, I hate pumping so much that would pretty much ruin my fun solo times. So we compromised and split the kids. Bruce took Calder for some waterslide adventures and I kept Wren here with me for uh, running errands and watching football. Of course all week before they left, every time Calder misbehaved Bruce would threaten him with leaving him at home with me. Uh, who exactly would that be punishing?

After dropping the boys off at the rental car place (OK, I rent a car I get a maroon Grand Marquis. Bruce rents a car he gets a pumpkin orange Dodge Charger. WHAT THE HELL?) Wren fell asleep immediately leaving me with my first taste of sweet, sweet alone time. How did I use it? I swept the floors and picked up Calder's room. Later I wasted all potentially productive nap times by dragging Wren out for some errands with my bestie. Ooooh, going to CVS and the grocery store. I really know how to live. *sobs over how my life used to be.* I did put the baby to sleep waaaay early using the magic of warm bathwater and a thermostat cranked way up to have my own little football party with wings and beer. Sure I could have invited people over but who am I kidding, no one would come. Of course today I paid for that early bedtime when she woke up at 4 frickin' 45. It's a good thing I only got through three of my fancy beers and fell asleep during halftime. That's livin'. L-I-V-I-N.

Today I am setting my sights much higher. During her naps I am going to sew. Maybe I will bake. I have already blogged *checks off list item*. Perhaps I will even take some photos of Wren that do not involve her eating.

Eight Months

2012-01-12T22:40:00.001-06:00

I think I am too tired. Like, detrimental to my brain tired. Evidence? Wren had her eighth monthday earlier this week and I put up a Wordless Wednesday instead. Which was, if you recall, posted on Tuesday.

Thing is, I don't even know why I'm so tired. Wren's been rocking a pretty awesome sleep schedule lately, going down between 8 and 9 and either waking at 3 for a quick snack and then passing right back out or staying asleep straight through until around 5:30 or 6. That may sound horribly early to some but with my work schedule, staying in bed until 6 am on a Sunday IS sleeping in.

Feed meh!

Of course as soon as something get regular something happens and fraks it all up again which is what occurred last week when Wren was simultaneously cutting her top middle teeth. She continues to be the most pleasant baby ever however (but not the happiest. That would be my nephew Senor Wolverine von Purplehands who, according to my S-i-L's facebook page, is never not smiling.) So yeah, my own kid. Two teeth at once sounds like it would be pretty rough, on her and us. But no, when she did get restless or wake up out of turn all Wren needed were some snuggles while we waited for the pain meds to kick in and a few rounds of Scrape Your Face Membranes With My Badger Claws before she'd settle back down. Not one single inconsolable crying jag and only the tiniest bit of buttrash. This is not at all how I remember Calder being. Then again he was much younger and couldn't do a great deal to relieve his discomfort on his own, what with having no developed motor skills yet. My recollections could also be tinted by the fact that almost everything about him is a challenge lately so it has started to feel like life with him has always been impossible. Deep down I know this isn't true but sometimes it sure feels like it.

Baby Broccolihead

So yeah, in the last month some teeth happened. We taught her to wave, clap and do "so big!" too. Sometimes she just sits in her highchair cycling through all three in a valiant attempt to garner our undivided attention. However, the big news is the gigantic leap in Wren's gross motor skills. She now stands on her own for moderate periods of time and even took a step or two today. Not two steps together, but one step twice. I have no evidence to back up either of these claims save for one sideways video Bruce put up on Facebook. Every time I try to get her on camera she forgets about being advanced for her age and lunges at my camera or phone. Her mobility is becoming and issue such to the point that we now have to keep the bathroom door shut lest I catch her with her hands in the toilet again. You put Wren on the floor and she will make a beeline straight there. Unless she is in the mood for playing in the dog water or trying to eat small pieces of toys of her brother's floor. She never makes a break for her own bedroom for some reason.

I don't take pictures of her doing anything other than eating anymore. That's all she does.

Wren's likes still include the pets and her brother and pretty much anything with a face. I caught her giving sloppy wet baby kisses to the pictures of puppies in one of her books. This is definitely going to be the kind of child that asks for a pony every year for Christmas. She also likes food, all kinds, playing with balls, chewing on the coffee table and random intermittent shrieking. She is also an accomplished earring ninja and tooth scraper.

Dislikes are having clothes put on, having her diaper put on, sitting still and not being allowed to lay on to of the cat. Oh, and not being given food fast enough. That is one of the surest ways to piss Wren off.

Mastered Skills (most kids can do):

Says "mama" or "dada" to parents (isn't specific) - Perhaps. Wren is still on the "Uh muhmuhmuh" thing but around Christmas she added "djah djah" to her repertoire. I think it might still be a while before we can officially call this one.

Passes objects from hand to hand - Oh yes. It usually goes like this: Pick up plastic phone. Pick up hard plastic rattle. Slooooowly touches them together *tink* Brings them together again, this time with a little more force *Clack!* And then the little baby brain lightbulb pops up and *WHAMWHAMWHAMWHAM* So peaceful, this home is.

Emerging Skills (half of kids can do):

Stands while holding onto something -Or not holding. Whichever.

Crawls - Everywhere. You cannot stop her. I think she may be over it already. Today she started crawling with one knee on the ground and pushing with her foot on the other side.

Points at objects - Is that object the cat? Or food? Yes. I don't know that she has pointed at much else though.

Searches for hidden objects - Did I hear the cat? Where is the cat? Is he under the bed? THERE IS THE CAT! *patpatpat HUUUUUUG*

Advanced Skills (a few kids can do):

Pulls self to standing, cruises - AHAHAHAHAHAH.

Picks things up with thumb-finger pincer grasp - Eh, feeding herself is still pretty much a big old fistful of whatever she can scrape off her palm. There's been a few attempts at picking small stuff up with her fingers but she usually fails and goes back to the open handed shovel method.

Indicates wants with gestures - Meh. Maybe? That could be what the waving and clapping recitals are all about but I wouldn't say I am positive. I mean, I may think so but I know she can't be perfect in everything after all.

Wordless Wednesday: Baby Eats All the Things

2012-01-10T12:57:00.003-06:00

Sorry some of these are fuzzy. My phone is understandably quite sticky when I am trying to take them.

So I'm Gonna Talk About My Boobs Again

2012-01-07T16:49:00.000-06:00

At work on Friday, a woman saw me with my pump and was like, "You're still doing that? Good for you!" Then we chitchatted about our relative breastfeeding experiences and I left with an enormous feeling of awesomeness. Not because I had stuck with breastfeeding and she gad not, but just because I HAD stuck with breastfeeding. Calder was supplemented with formula from day one and didn't last long at the boob once his top and bottom teeth grew in. Boy was a biter, if you recall. And I am OK with that. I am fine with the supplementing because honestly, sometimes it felt like he never stopped screaming and the only way to get him to sleep was to get him nice and full. If peace of mind comes from a canister of formula? THAT IS COOL, INTERNET.

I also had my pumping situation working against me. Even if he was a biter, I could have just kept pumping. Except my pumping room at that time was a phone room. With no locks. And a window. Now I feel like I am living in the lap of luxury even if this fancypants Mother's Room doesn't have a TV like everyone in the company seems to imagine. I also have it all to myself now. No more coordinating schedules or feeling rushed to accommodate someone else engorged chest. And no more other people eating stinky food and having long conversations in there either. It's so much easier to get that extra ounce out when I am not wallowing in the after odors of someone else's lunch. Don't get me wrong, I ~~like~~ friggin' love Indian food but I am in no rush to hotbox some saag paneer.

So Wren and I are still going strong. I've mentioned before that she is not EBF, but MBF. Mostly breastfed. I still fear for my supply constantly and have very little wiggle room with it. In a pinch I will not hesitate to let her have some formula if the fridge supply is out and my boobs are otherwise engaged. How long will that last? No idea. My most basic of basic plan was to go for a year until she can have cow's milk because formula is expensive and boob juice is free. This was going on my Calder experience where he could pretty much not give one hoot where his food was coming from. The word "weening" was never even used because he just sort of seemed to not care. Whether he stopped latching or I have stopped offering, I am not even sure. With Wren? It's going to be different. I know that even if I was ready to stop breastfeeding her right now she WOULD NOT be down with that. At all. It's not like she doesn't like the bottle either. She's fine with them but she really seems to prefer her meals straight from the tap (or off her brother's plate but that's another story altogether). Even if she has JUST had a bottle, when I get home from work she'll crawl over and start making smacking noises with her mouth. As soon as I have de-jacketed and picked her up Wren will start tugging at my top and depending on the amount of cleavage I am rocking that day, I might be subjected top a vigorous motorboating. Don't google that, Mom.

So, I have about four and a half months to figure out what I am going to do. I know I could just keep on keepin' on indefinitely but I quite honestly LOATHE pumping. I hate the time that it takes and the boringness and the fact that I somehow cannot mange to make it through the day with out spilling a noticeable amount of breast milk on myself somewhere. I would quit now if I could so at one year, I will be so ready to stop. I don't even know if it's possible to keep feeding her when I am at home but stop pumping during the day. Will my boobs go on strike? Will she? Maybe they will explode? Will my bras fit again? Will I gain one hundred million pounds because I will continue to eat at breastfeeding levels?

I've changed my mind. TELL ME WHAT TO DO, INTERNET!

Wordless Wednesday: Science Museum

2012-01-04T19:35:00.001-06:00

It's a New Year

2012-01-02T10:36:00.000-06:00

If our Christmas was low key, our New Year's was positively dead. We ushered in the new year by putting on sweatpants, ordering a ton of chicken wings and falling asleep on the couch. The champagne I made Bruce buy never even got opened. For me, 2011 was a pretty good year. We moved out of the city apartment and into a suburban house. We welcomed Wren into our family and she is possibly the sweetest baby ever, Seriously. She's cutting new teeth and her only reaction is extra snuggling and occasional crankiness which is alleviated by extra nursing. She's been on the boob so much I woke up soaking wet and smelling like a dairy farm for the first time in ages. And of course having Wren meant that instead of going in to work, I got to stay at home with her, Calder and Bruce for three months. Of course not everything was perfect. My cat died and Bruce transitioned into a not so on purpose life as a stay at home dad leaving us with much less money than I would normally be comfortable with. I would link all this stuff but that is just too much work. My lazy is always constant.

Instead, some pointless resolutions. Not only do I expect to break most of them, I am in fact already breaking one as I write. I'll let you guess which one.

Lose weight/do real exercise. Not in some, "I need to be skinny" way but more in the "I need to fit into clothes I already own way." Basically I need to stop eating like I am simultaneously carrying a set of twins and breastfeeding another and do something more strenuous than kicking Calder's ass at Kids Dance 2.
Get better at picture taking. I just found out I won a free year's membership to Clickin' Moms from a giveaway on BabyRabies. I'll never be able to afford a fancypants camera so I may as well use this chance to learn to use the one I have.
Sew more. I have managed to make sewing a more than once a year activity but I'm pretty sure I haven't completed a thing from my last crafty to-do post. I have turned into my mom what with the starting of projects and not finishing them. And by starting I mean buying the fabric and telling people what I intend to make with it. You should see her closet full of late 80s/early 90s knit prints. I myself am building up a pretty significant scrap heap since I have started bringing home cheap fabric remnants like so many injured baby animals.
Learn to deal with Calder better. I swear the boy dedicates a significant portion of his energies towards making me lose my goddam mind. Bedtime is still problematic and simply saying "no" to him can unleash a special kind of hell. There's hitting, biting and screaming involved. Every time. I realize this is more my failure as a parent than it is any fault of Calder's but some time I just wish he'd be more normal. I know kids can be difficult at his age but if this were normal, no one would have children. I try really, really hard to remain calm with him but there are times when I am just too tired or stressed and end up yelling like a crazy person. And the fact is, I am tired and stressed A LOT. As such I have become a screamy, yelly crazy person whom I don't particularly like. This needs to be corrected.
Post more. Ahahaha just kidding. That would be like I am trying to set myself up to fail.

So This Is Christmas. Finally.

2012-01-01T17:27:00.001-06:00

For the second year in a row we had a stay-at-home nuclear family Christmas. Of course we were sort of hampered in any travel plans because three tickets to Hartford are frickin' expensive and the baby doesn't have a passport so Canada was out. Note to our families: If you lived somewhere more convenient, we'd see you more.

This year Calder firmly grasped the whole Santa concept. We are still working on the Jesus bits though. So naturally I was expecting him to be up at the break of dawn shrieking about stockings and presents and all that jazz. I did get woken up waaaay too early but it was by Wren, we was ready to throw around some holiday cheer at 5:30. We killed time by going through all the presents and laying on the floor wishing for sleep. You guess who did what.

When Calder finally did wander of out bed it was the most laid back a four year old could possibly be. "Did Santa come?" he asked while I changed Wren's diaper. I told him to go check it out. "Hmmm, it looks like he did" he said, while he walked up and down the row of stockings inspecting them like a General. I don't even think he went for his own stocking first, instead passing out Wren's and Bruce's. I was made to wait for some reason. After determining that Santa brought the correct Pillow Pet and there were Dagedars but no Happy Nappers, Calder asked to watch the movie he had just opened. Not, "Can I open more presents?" What a weirdo. He watched all of Kung Fu Panda 2 while Wren napped before it even occurred to him that we might let him have a go at a few more.

After the presents were finally opened and the bulk of the wrapping paper bagged up lest the baby eat it (some more) I started our sad little dinner. Or big pointless dinner, more accurately. Calder played with the kids from next door who, what with their large family, had so many people over they couldn't breathe. That is a direct quote. I roasted a beef, gratined some sweet potatoes and cranned some berries. Calder ate none of it. Wren ate everything. While everything was cooking we assembled and played with gifts, Skyped with family and regular called some others.

Now it is the New Year and all the Christmas accouterments have been stowed away until next year. Normally I would leave everything up until the Epiphany but I really, really wanted that space in my living room back. I love my tree and all but I love not knocking into stuff constantly too. I do like our little family unit holidays but I am hoping that next year we will have somewhere to go. I am really REALLY hoping for an east coast cousin-palooza which, having one side of the family be childless and the other side be Jehovahs, never happened for us as kids. It would be epic.

Christmas Eve Day Doctor

2011-12-29T08:32:00.000-06:00

It would be remiss of me to talk about Christmas before I mention what we did on Christmas Eve day. Which would be take Calder in for his annual check up. Calder, having been present for nearly all of his sister's well-baby checks was aware that there were likely to be several injections in his future. So for two days ahead of time we basically tried to bribe him into not freaking out about having to go to the doctor. I mean, he loves going there, just not for himself. After promises of Happy Meals and monster trucks I finally ran out of ways to get Calder to agree to get in the car without a fight and just said, "You will have to take that up with Dr. Merens." That shut him right up. "I will." OK then. Weirdo. And true to his word, as soon as she came into the exam room Calder grabbed her by the hand and said, " I get no shots today, OK?" Luckily for him, he is still allergic to eggs and since all the scheduled boosters have egg in them, we were able to put them off until he has to get them for school. All Calder ended up with was a snootful of deactivated flu virus and and a teensy blood draw for his lead check. I didn't even have to get him the promised Happy Meal he was content to get some stickers and an extra bandage for his finger.

The doctor told us that he seems to be doing well. Good vital signs and motor skills. Excellent language. Duh, he just tried to negotiate his way out of vaccinations. And he is getting huge. Calder is exactly 40 pounds and, uh, some height. We kind of both got distracted at that point by the baby ripping my earring off and shoving it in her mouth so we missed how tall he is. I will be using the super scientific method of chasing Calder around with a tape measure to figure this out later. Dr. Merens did say he was big enough to switch from a car seat to a booster so we will either be converting his current seat, or having read several bad reviews of its performance as a booster, buying a new one and using the old seat in its rear-facing position for Wren so we can stop cramming her into the snap and go.

Were you surprised the doctor's office was even open on Christmas Eve? I was. Even more surprising to me was how busy it was. Although according to my Twitter and Facebook feeds, just about everyone's children has some form of projectile vomitous disease so maybe it's not that surprising. Keep them away from my kids, by the way. They are doing just fine.

Christmas Teamwork

2011-12-28T10:24:00.000-06:00

Full Christmas writeup when I get all this crap cleaned up. Holy cow, wrapping paper.

Why Let the Kids Have All the Fun?

2011-12-23T11:08:00.000-06:00

One Chicago tradition is the CTA holiday train. It's a dedicated set of el cars that's permanently tricked out for the holidays with a special flatbed car added for Santa and his sleigh. From Thanksgiving until just before Christmas it takes turns running on the various lines with Santa stopping at certain stations for photo ops. Needless to say, kids love it.

I am obsessed with the holiday train. After hearing about it for years, I accidentally caught it home from work last year. It was a transcendent experience. The decorations, the music, the CTA workers dressed as elves and passing out candy canes. People being nice to each other. That's right. Total strangers. Being friendly and cheerful. On public transportation.

If children love the holiday train, adults (ME) go absolutely fucking nuts for it. After weeks of longingly perusing the CTA timetables and trying to coerce Bruce into dragging the kids out on a weekend for no reason, I finally caught the train on its last day of operation for the season, on the Yellow Line Skokie Swift. Normally, this is a two-car, two train shuttle that simply runs back and forth between Chicago and Skokie. A third stop is being added for later next year. As such, the normal holiday train was split in two and Santa forewent his sleigh and rode with the plebes.

The commuting public went wild. I mean, my ride last year was great. Everyone on my car was laughing and chatting, taking pictures with their phones and generally being gleeful. Add close proximity to Santa to the mix and you get, as one mother said to her kid, "These grown-ups are more excited about this than you are." Grey-haired, grey-suited businessmen were giggling like schoolgirls. Hipsterfied twenty somethings stopped pretending everything was so over for 15 minutes and were snapping photos like the paparazzi. And posing for them too. Have you ever willingly handed you $400 phone to a stranger on the train? No, that is stupid. You will never see that phone again. This happened approximately one million times last night. A sullen looking girl with a half dozen hoops through her lip pushed her phone at me and grunted, "Take me with Santa?" Of course I did and she reciprocated for me.

I could have ridden that holiday shuttle back and forth all night long but I had to go home since I don't think "reliving childhood wonderment" is a valid excuse to ignore your children. So instead I waited for my bus in the chilly drizzle and as everyone else got picked up and I continues to wait, I started to cry. Why? I'm not entirely sure. Maybe I was sad because I missed finding Christmas joy to be that easy to come by. Maybe it was because that easy joy on the holiday train makes everyday life outside of it seem so hard. Maybe it was because while I enjoyed the cheer from all those strangers, I would have really liked to have shared those feelings with my family too. And not just Bruce and Calder and Wren. But my whole family, who are once again more than 600 miles away from me for Christmas.

Unintentional Love Poem

2011-12-23T10:26:00.000-06:00

This is far more romantic than anything his father has ever said to me.

Can I play with Lupita?

I can hear her voice

Her love

My love

I am in love with Lupita.

Boogie Woogie Boy

2011-12-23T08:46:00.001-06:00

Bruce to Calder: What are you doing, digging for gold?
Calder: No, I'm digging for boogers... so I can eat them.

Sigh.

Wordless Wednesday: Baby Crazy Hair

2011-12-21T20:05:00.000-06:00

Happy Birthday, Calder

2011-12-18T21:36:00.000-06:00

Someone hold me. Today my baby, my first baby, turned four. I'd tell you what Babycenter has to say about this age but apparently they stop at age 3. He's that big now. Sniff.

Seriously, how'd we get from this:

To this?

The only thing those two children have in common is an almost near inability to look directly at the camera. Oh, and a button nose. How seasonally appropriate. Calder is so grown up now it frequently blows my mind. He's just on the cusp of being able to read. He'll sound out letters and like to play little games like naming the first letters of whatever word he happens to be thinking of. Numbers are also starting to have some meaning to him but not too much. His go to "so big, it can't get any bigger" number is currently eleventeen.

Generic superhero theme activate!

Calder still loves his dinosaurs but he has expanded his interests to include monster trucks and video games as well as any and all forms of science. His new favorite show is How It's Made and its various incarnations. It seems the boys has a little bit of his daddy's engineering genes in him. Calder loves his sister. And hates her too. Just as it should be. On the whole he is wonderful with Wren, wanting to include her in his playtime, showing her toys and books and explaining everything that is going on in his matter of fact, bossypants kind of way. He can still be a bit of a holy terror, so much so that I just ordered a new parenting book, something about living with "strong-willed children". Hopefully this won't be a waste of ten bucks. Now if someone would just write a How to Raise Your Little Supervillain and I'd be all set.

Spider-cake, Spider-cake, tastes just like a regular cake.

We had Calder's birthday party last weekend. It was no huge affair due to the fact that we barely know anyone with children and I am terrible at party planning. It didn't even occur to me that he'd need one until Thanksgiving. Oops. Fortunately Etsy, Pinterest and Party City were there to help and I managed to throw together a small shindig for some grown up friends and a couple of little ones as well.

The kid practically vibrated with excitement making it almost impossible to photograph him.

This year's themes was once again superheroes and I did a pretty good job of avoiding name brand stuff and instead went with a more color-toned approach to the decorations. I got a cool hero themed printable from a neato Etsy shop for most of the decor. Even though I went through two full color cartridges I would definitely recommend this. It was totally customizable and included pretty much anything you'd need for a party from invites to thank you notes and everything in between. I even tried to stay on point with the entertainment and bough a CD of hero-themed music. One track was so catchy it made Calder say, "What's dis song? It's makin' me dance and I don't know how to stop!"

Hero sandwich bar

Calder's atcual birthday has been pretty low key. Bruce had hockey all morning so we just chilled here all day and opened his presents in the afternoon and let Calder pick out dinner. It was pizza. Shocker, I know. We had some nice phone and video chats with the family, or I should say Calder shouted "HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" into the phone (doesn't quite get that part) and then ran away while I talked to Grammie and Grandma and Aunties of all sorts. Our one big activity was assembling Wren's new dresser. With Bruce gone, Calder and Wren were my assistants. While they were very cute, they weren't so much helpful. Pro tip: If someone says, "Do you want me to get the drill?" the answer is always YES. We were so chill today we didn't even a second cake because we still haven't finished off all the cupcakes from last weekend. How long do cupcakes stay good anyways?

Santa!

2011-12-17T18:04:00.005-06:00

Today we took the kids to the dirt mall to get our Santa on. Shockingly neither child freaked out.

Even more miraculously, at the mall and subsequent stops at the post office, shoe store and Target, we got relatively close parking spots with a minimum of fuss. AND! Both Wren and Calder behaved themselves the entire time with a minimum of bribery and threats. I have to say, there's nothing like a Mall at Christmas to make you realize that your kids are not as awful as you might think. There's almost always worse ones out there.

Wordless Wednesday: Christmas Creeper

2011-12-14T10:39:00.000-06:00

Seven Months

2011-12-14T10:37:00.000-06:00

So Wren hit the seventh month mark, what, four days ago? Five? I should probably acknowledge this but I'm terrible at blogging lately. Of course part of that terribleness is Wren and her new awesome sleep pattern's fault. She sleeps through the night now, yay! But "night" doesn't start until 9:30, 10:00, boo! Those precious minutes between putting Calder and myself to bed are my prime getting shit done moments and Wren's desire to stay up late and party has taken that away. Is she hungry? Teething? Just a happy/fussy P in the A? No idea. She seems to have plateaued at just the two bottom teeth, unlike Calder who was determined to sprout as many teeth as he could as fast as possible. And this is OK by me. Actually, I should say my boobs are OK with it since I still get a little bit of PTSD flinchiness due to what Calder and his chompers did to my sensitive bits.This is why, unlike he brother, I am still breastfeeding Wren at seven months and not quitting at five. I am still spending up to an hour and a half every work day hooked up to the pump, still waking up with painful engorged boobs (the only bad thing about the whole night sleeping thing) and still making my daily dressing decisions based upon chestal accessibility. That's not to say the Wren has ever been any kind of exclusively breastfed. Yesterday we bought her third can of formula ever and the first full size one. Regardless of what I do, I am barely keeping up with her insatiable appetite and so, formula. Sorry lactivists, my daughter was not EBF, she was MBF (mostly breast fed). Is that OK? Doubtful.

If I were to list her current likes they would be the dog, the cat, the Christmas Tree, climbing the present pile, chewing on her brother's presents so he can see what they all are and eating. Eating what? What do you have? She'll eat anything. Being an actual food product is only a minor requirement. Bruce and I regularly play a fun new game called "What's the Baby Got in Her Mouth Now?" Hint: It's usually paper. Wren could eat a whole magazine if left alone long enough. Our printed media pile looks as though we have adopted a quickly growing family of rabbits. As for real food, she wants to be eating whatever it is we have, baby appropriate or not. If you don't share, Wren will stare you down from her seat and growl at you. For reals, a low, rumbly, "Rahhhhhhhhhhh." She's been learning from the cat apparently. So we usually give in and feed her small chunks off our plates. I hear this is maybe something called baby-led weaning? Again, though, I am probably doing it wrong and making someone somewhere on the internet angry. I am terrible at following PARENTING doctrine.

Wren will be walking soon. Sometimes when she pulls up on stuff she'll forget to hold on and will stay steady for a second or two before plopping down on her butt. Or face. (Another new favorite game: "How'd the Baby Get a Shiner?") Last night, tired of being clawed at and kicked, I gave up on trying to cuddle/feed the honey badger to sleep and put her on the floor to burn off her extra energy. Wren immediately pulled up on Calder's plastic chair and motored her way around the living room. She looked a lot like the old guy from Up with his walker. Bruce was going to just get out the baby walker we got her for Christmas but that appears to be the only gift she hasn't partially chewed open yet so it couldn't be located.

Mastered Skills (most kids can do): Let's just say "Yes, with vigor" to these.

Sits without support

Drags objects toward herself

Emerging Skills (half of kids can do):

Lunges forward or starts crawling - Yeahhhh. Starts, hah.

Jabbers or combines syllables - Yes. I swear she says "Heeeey, yeahhhh" to people and also possibly a version of Mama. It's more like "uhmmMah MAH" though and it is used indiscriminately.

Starts to experience stranger anxiety - She'll still let others hold her but she is definitely more reserved now. Until you offer her food, then Wren is your new BFF.

Advanced Skills (a few kids can do):

Waves goodbye - I am trying to teach her this. I don't think she's getting it. Sometimes she'll throw out an arm in response but I could just be reading into her undeveloped fine motor control.

Stands while holding onto something - Pshaw. With vigor.

Bangs objects together - A recent discovery. It's now like a competition to see who can make Mommy's headache worse up in here.

Begins to understand object permanence - Perhaps. Wren is certainly down with the whole, "Hey, let me toss this toy you just gave me so you can pick it up again a billion times" thing but we tried the whole putting an object under a cloth game to see what she does and what she does ist lose interest and go find a magazine to eat.

Wordless Wednesday: Biker Boy

2011-12-07T07:54:00.000-06:00

Because there are very few things meaner than giving a kid a gift he can't use for five months and Chicago winters are long and brutal, a few weeks ago Bruce and I gave Calder an early birthday present: his very first bike.

Oh, Crapsmas Tree

2011-12-06T20:25:00.000-06:00

You know how they say that for safety reasons you should tether your Christmas tree to the ceiling so it doesn't fall over? No really, they say that. Has anyone actually every done this? Well, perhaps we should all start.

Tree.0

Sunday night we can home from a successful shopping trip (New sweaters! New phones!) and my goddamn tree had fallen over. Like, a spectacular broken fucking ornaments everywhere disaster. There was crying. There was cursing. There was Calder jumping around in a pile of shattered glass ornaments going "This is awesome! This is AWEsome!" No it's not, you little jerk. The best part is Bruce didn't even notice. I mean, the man walked in the door, went through the living room where Treepocalypse was and straight on to the bathroom and saw nothing. NOTHING. I was carrying stuff in from the car and about ten steps behind him and had this conversation with him immediately upon cresting the living room door:

Me: HOLY SHIT! Did you not feel the need to mention this?!

Bruce (from the bathroom): What?

Me: This! Thing! Here! In the living room!

Bruce: What thing?

Me (sobbing): Snerfling blergly fuckinggoddamnshitholeassface blarglemergle

Bruce: Have we been robbed or something?

Me: In a way. Robbed of Christmas spirit.

Bruce: Huh?

Me: THE CHRISTMAS TREE HAS FALLEN DOWN, YOU GODDAMN IDIOT.

Carnage

No, I have no idea why. The dog was in his crate and Molson, the fat bastard, can barely jump up onto the couch much less take out a 7 ft. tree. Based on my tree autopsy, it seems like the trunk became spongy so the base pins sunk into it on one side and pulled it away from the pins on the other causing it to list slightly. What caused it to finally tip is beyond me. I refuse to acknowledge that too many ornaments might be a real thing. The good news is none of my fancy-ass Hallmarks are damaged beyond repair and only one ornament from my childhood got smashed (and is quickly being replaced via the eBays). I did lose a bunch of vintage decorations that I had picked up at thrift stores and antique malls over the years and one very nice blown glass Stegosaurus. And no, I did not take any pictures of the carnage because I was too busy having a nervous breakdown while Bruce held the tree up and assigned Calder to collect the larger glass shards.

Tree.1

Of course I am not going to let a killer tree stay in my house even if it is mainly a danger only to ornaments and poorly supervised kids. I have both of those in spades. Luckily there's that humongous fake tree from years past and all the remaining ornaments have been swapped onto that one and the fancy real tree has been sent outside, still wrapped in lights, to wallow in its shame. So screw you, Poor Bob, and your spongy-ass trees. Screw you right in the ear. Though I should have known better. Yesterday I realized the sign on the tree lot reads: Poor Bob's Christmas Tree Laned.

I mean, that doesn't even make any sense.

Stocking Stress

2011-12-02T17:01:00.000-06:00

So it turns out, if I want to get shit done, I have to take time away from other things like writing here and if I don't get shit done, I have nothing to write about. (Sorry about the cursing. For some reason I am extra cranky lately. Like, I hate everything for no apparent reason and dropping cuss words and f-bombs where Calder can't call me out on it is somewhat therapeutic.)

All that said, I DID SOMETHING!!! I wanted to make Wren her very own Christmas stocking and I totally did! It doesn't even look that awful. Using a combination of tutorials from PrudentBaby.com, I made a this quilted stocking for the baby from using a print I that came in a bundle from Fabricworm. It turns out fat quarters are the exact perfect size for making stockings.

Of course because nothing is ever easy it took me forever to accomplish this and I am maybe sort of put out on the idea of making ones for Bruce and Calder as well. You see, I was taught to sew by my mom when I was about eight. My non-Halloween accomplishments peaked with a patchwork pillow that I made for my aunt right around that same time. Sure, in college I made myself some really slutty tie back tops to wear to the bar where I worked but my normal sewing result is more like the dress I made for Ivy Day my senior year that came out so terribly that I decided to skip the event altogether. And these were all done before I had my allegedly nice sewing machine that is in reality an assy bitch (I told you I was cranky) with some severe tension related issues. Thread tension at zero? Same sloppy back as when it's set at nine. Four is maybe even worse. After threading and re-threading the machine and cleaning the bobbin for THREE DAYS STRAIGHT, I finally got my recalcitrant sewing machine to cooperated and sew some quilted lines that would not fall apart immediately. Then I realized I had spaced them incorrectly and had to pick them all out and start over. I am not even going to go into the single fold vs. double fold bias tape issue other than to say that I bought the wrong one (twice), sewed some on, it looked horrible so I ripped it all off. In all, I think I picked a spools worth of stitches and now have arthritis in my hands.

So here it is, the stocking that ruined my hands and maybe caused me to cry more than once. Girl better appreciate it or else I might lose my mind.

There's No Doubt ABout It, He's My Kid

2011-12-01T13:27:00.000-06:00

Things Calder may have said while he "helped" me set up the Christmas Tree this year:

Sigh. I love ormaments. They are so beautiful.

Sank you, Mommy. I so glad we got a real tree.

You're doing the ormaments wrong! You are RUINING MY LIFE!

Let's put more on.

Wren! Don't eat the ormaments. They are not toys! Or food!

I 'd say the boy is well on his way to being fully indoctrinated into the cult of How to Decorate the Shit Out of Your Christmas Tree.

We set up the tree the day after Thanksgiving, though Calder had been asking for me to get out all the holiday decorations since we put away the Halloween ones. Calder and I went out to Poor Bob's Tree Lot (IN SIXTY DEGREE WEATHER!!! ) and found the most magnificent bastard I thought would fit in our house. The creepy mofo who sold it to me even asked me three times if I was sure it would fit. I was. True fact: I still had to cut off 4 inches from the bottom and about six from the top. Derp.

It's amazing we got it finished as fast as we did. As soon as Bruce dragged it into the house for me and got it in its stand, he bailed for hockey leaving me with a mobile baby who wanted to eat the tree and a boy who kept asking every ten minutes if I had gotten all the lights on yet. Short answer: No. Long answer: No, and not until the baby takes a nap because I am busy trying to pull individual conifer needles out of her mouth and nose. Once the lights were on I gave Calder the go ahead to start opening and hanging ornaments. I will not lie, it warmed my cold dead heart to see him pick out his favorites and set them up on the table so he could admire them for an extra bit of time before they were placed on the tree. And! He was the one pressing me to keep hanging them when Wren woke up from her nap ("Put her back, I not done yet!) Of course I totally went around later that night and rearranged most of what he hung up but I wouldn't go so far as to say they were life-ruining issues.

Wordless Wednesday: Hey Look, a Post!

2011-11-30T19:28:00.000-06:00

Please stop touching the Christmas Tree....

Dry Nights

2011-11-26T15:13:00.000-06:00

Despite being potty trained for about a year and a half, Calder is still having issues at night. Even though we try to make sure he doesn't drink too much late in the evening and make sure he uses the bathroom before he gets in bed, Calder is still sometimes waking up wet. And by sometimes I mean, at least half the week. I think he is sneaking drinks of water from the bathroom sink or something. Or maybe it's bad dreams. Or maybe it's because I am a terrible mother and abandon him all day to go to work. Perhaps he just sleeps so friggin' soundly that he doesn't realize his need to get up. Regardless, I am sick of washing his sheets three or four times a week. I am sick of the electricity bill from running the washer and dryer constantly and am really jealous of how often he gets clean bedclothes. I can't even remember the last time someone washed my sheets.

As loathe as I was to do it, I just had to start putting Calder in nighttime training pants. If we can't get him to stop the peeing at night, at least we can minimize the damage and inconvenience. I felt so bad about doing this too him, it's been going on for over a week and this is the first time I have mentioned it to anyone other than Bruce. I know the kid is sensitive about wearing the training pants, we call them his "special nighttime underpants". When I first introduced them I sat Calder down to talk about why he was going to wear them, showed him the pictures of big kids on the box and made it absolutely clear that we weren't trying to punish him. Bruce slipped once and called them diapers which resulted in Calder crying and sniffling about not being a baby. Who knows if they will help. I am somewhat afraid that wearing the training pants will just encourage him to not bother getting up at night for the bathroom at all. Maybe he'll just wear them forever. At least until he moves out and has to do his own laundry.

Wordless Wednesday: Get Down, Baby! Part II

2011-11-23T17:23:00.000-06:00

Sorry, Mom. This is Hilarious

2011-11-20T11:14:00.000-06:00

A short play.

Calder (messing around with some old metal bobbins): Here you go, use dese.
Me: I can't. Those go to my old sewing machine.
Calder: Where did dat one go?
Me: I gave it back to Grandma when she gave me this one.
Calder: Oh. Gramma just loooooves old fings. Cause she's old.

Shot to the Legs

2011-11-19T16:45:00.000-06:00

On Wednesday Bruce took Wren in for her six month check up. Apparently she is doing just swell. She has grown a half inch to make it to 27 even, and gained almost a pound and a half to get up to 16 lb, 10 oz. Her head size is even an average to large 43 cm so I guess my fears of a teensy headed child have been assuaged.

The doctor told Bruce that we should get her to start using sippy cups and try night weaning if we are at all interested in sleeping through the night. Or as Bruce relayed it to me, "Stop feeding her." Apparently Wren's recent ass-kicking cold did NOT lead to an ear infection but she probably is teething again. Yay? I'll take the split.

All was not perfect though, Wren had a sorta bad reaction to her shots and ended up with a pretty high fever, over 102, that just broke TODAY. She has been miserable and she has brought the whole house down with her. No sleep was to be had by anyone. She's fine now, thankfully and is back to her jolly lil' self in time for the weekend.

Oh, and how last week I was all she can sort of get around but not really? Yeah, that was total crap.The day after I wrote that she started getting into an upright sitting position by herself and then on Tuesday I came home from work just as she had PULLED HERSELF UP on a box of toys. Of course she faceplanted into said box immediately and needed to be rescued. But hey, I like that she still needs me. Sorta. Oh and she can for reals crawl too. Not very fast. Yet. But she can do it. At this rate, I expect she'll be walking before Christmas.

Wordless Wednesday: How Do I play Angry Birds on This?

2011-11-16T07:42:00.000-06:00

Shoparama

2011-11-15T22:33:00.000-06:00

This past weekend was our annual I Have Some Extra Money, Let's Go Buy Shit shopping trip. I use a portion my work bonus to purchase the stuff that isn't really necessary but makes life easier. Stuff that I would like to get all the time but I'm too busy spending all my free cash on children and doctor bills. This time of year I get to shop for all those wonderful amenities that make living in the First World so wonderful. Things like razor cartridges and Magic Erasers. I try to be organized about this. We use coupons and scan fliers but inevitably it ends up that Leah goes into Target and BUYS ALL THE THINGS. Still, even with my Target-induced impulse shopping tendencies we managed to save quite a bit of money by combining sales, coupons and price matching. Our receipt from the grocery store was near as tall as I am and the whole time she was checking us out, the cashier was looking around as if she expected to see TV cameras.

Calder is Smarter Than Me: An Interlude

One of the rando things I got a Target was a dinosaur LED nightlight for Calder. A long, long time ago I bought an LED bird nightlight for Wren's room. If I ever get around to decorating it, Wren's room will be bird and woodland themed, so, bird light. For whatever reason Calder found his nightlight situation lacking and adopted it as his own. So on Sunday, I found a dino one for him. As I put him to bed that night, I apologized for not being able to use his new nightlight because it wasn't plugged in or charged. Calder looked at me with such disdain, pulled out the plug from the bird light and plugged it into the dinosaur. Which immediately lit up. Yeah. I was appropriately shamed.

So anyways. After saving over $200 in one day and accidentally starting my Christmas shopping* I thought maybe I would want to be combining the two. I have never participated in a Black Friday store massacree and I don't ever intend to start however I have become aware that the same sales are pretty much available online at the same ridiculous times of day as the store sales. Hey, I thought to myself, your baby hates you and you are up at 3 a.m. anyways. Why don't you try to get some BF deal. Put that not sleeping to work for you. Seriously. A revelation. But the thing is, I have no idea how this all works. I did some web surfing and found a site that allows you see the BF ads before they are release and you can make yourself a nice little shopping list to save, print and share. Uh-mazing. The thing is, I am still not sure how the whole online process works. Do the online BF sales start at midnight? At the same time the corresponding stores open? If it's the same time as the store, is that EST? Or Local time? I am dumb, ok? So, have you ever braved the online world of BF sales. Were you successful? Am I wasting my time? I'd be really interested in hearing what others have to say. You can also tell me to just give it up. That's alright too.

Oh, also also. Is it necessary to be in skinny jeans if you want to wear really awesome boots? I want awesome this certain pair boots but I don't want the exact contours of my lower half on display. I mean these are really awesome boots. I would just dump them on the floor and roll in them like I was a dog and they were a fermented squirrel carcass.

In summary: Online Black Friday, is it worth it and can chubby girls wear awesome boots too. HALP.

Zombie Mom

2011-11-13T11:46:00.000-06:00

I am still sick. Wren is still sick. Calder is still three going on impossible. Last night ended up with Wren waking up every two hours at which point I resigned myself to just sleeping upright with her attached to my boobs and snoozing. This was a great plan until Calder also woke up. Which woke Wren back up, regardless of her proximity to boobage. Calder was being difficult and wouldn't settle himself without his own snuggles so first we all tried cuddling in his bed. Except, since her brother was up, Wren was ready to party. After about three minutes of that even Calder was all, "I fink this is not a great idea actually" and we relocated back to the couch.

Eventually both kids ended up falling asleep and I was able to nap somewhat from 4 to 7 whereupon I foisted the baby onto Bruce and got one real hour of sleep in my own dear bed. I could have tried to put them back in their own beds much sooner but that would probably have woken everyone up again and Chief had taken over my bed spot, pillow and all, anyways.

This kind of nocturnal nonsense has led to me spending my days shuffling through work and home life, a barely coherent shell of my former self, saying things like "Never, ever vomit on a police officer's daughter" at fancy work lunches. I have forgotten/broken pieces of my pump at least three times in the last two weeks which resulted in me having an extremely painful, if well endowed, few days at work. I could go on and on about my dumbassery but pretty much nothing I could do or say would illustrate the depths to which my mind has fallen better than this conversation I recently had with Bruce:

Bruce: Do you want me to get (Babysitter) to come over on Tuesday so we can go out?

Me: What?

Bruce: Or she could just come over and keep the kids busy in the basement which we have a nice dinner up here.

Me: Huh? For what, why do we need a babysitter on Tuesday?

Bruce: For your birthday.

Me. Oh.

Six Months

2011-11-10T22:02:00.004-06:00

Holy crap. It's my baby's half birthday. She's humongous. And has a personality. And moves. She MOVES, people.

Baby yoga

It's crazy how fast time passes when you are really enjoying yourself/not getting any sleep. And for real, I just read the five month post and 30 days ago this girl could not get herself up onto her hands and knees and now she is thisclose to crawling. If I had written this post two weeks ago I would have been like, "Yeah, she can get up on her hands and knees but she just rocks back and forth." and if I had written it on Sunday I would have been all "Yeah, She can get up and shuffle a bit but she can only really slide forward on her belly when she falls. " As of today? Wren gets up on her hands and knees and she can either move her hands or move her knees but she hasn't coordinated the two yet. Does that stop her from getting at whatever it is that she wants with a laser-like focus? No, it does not. Like Calder did his army crawl, Wren has developed a method to cope. She pushed herself up, shuffles her knees in close and then slides down onto her belly and then, with both arms together, pulls herself forward She also uses the arms to steer while sliding on her tum. So it's kind of like a walrusy. swimmy crawly thing. But with less grace and fluidity. It's like... like a legless zombie. My infant daughter gets around almost exactly like a legless zombie. Wren is also developing some mad yoga skills and has quite possibly passed her father in that regard. She can dog, both down and up, table, child's pose (duh) and a something something triangle. It's been a while since I have acquainted myself with my yoga DVDs. So sue me.

OH HAI, Daddy dressed me.

Oh and the sitting! Wren sits. By herself. When she starts to tip over, she can correct herself. I still wouldn't wander off and leave her alone on a hard surface but if she is on her mats with a blanket for some extra padding, I am in no way concerned about the possibility of her plopping over. If Wren does, in fact, want back down to the floor, she can do that. Without falling over being one of the major steps. She is current working on getting from her back or belly to the sitting position but she hasn't quite gotten their yet. She may even overshoot her goals and pull herself to standing before she ever gets up on her butt. I think Wren may be a toe walker though so that will be something to look out for.

FEED MEH!

Wren may also be teething again. It's hard to tell since she's been so snuffly and ill lately. This whole germ/tooth issue needs to get resolved quickly because it has led to her developing an entirely new and unwelcome sleep pattern. Or non-sleep pattern as the case may be. Waking up every three hours at six months is NOT ACCEPTABLE. I'd be angrier but I am frankly too goddamn tired. THIS NEEDS TO END.

Things she loves: Calder, her pets, chewing paper, pinching my boobs while eating, eating, really big poops, zombie crawl slow-speed cat chases, Bruce's glasses, all her toys.

Things she hates: Us leaving, Calder being all up in her grill, not getting a boob when she wakes up a night, the dog or cat ignoring her, having her boogers sucked out, wearing bibs for more than five seconds and not having that big satisfying pop changed right now.

Milestones!

Mastered Skills (most kids can do):

Turns toward sounds and voices - Yup
Imitates sounds - Eh? She babbles a lot and I try to get her to say Mama and she sort of does sometimes? But she doesn't repeat if after me or anything? It's more like two hours later when she's screaming her face off and wants something.
Rolls over in both directions - Yessir

Emerging Skills (half of kids can do):

Is ready for solid foods - Are YOU ready for her to be ready for solid foods? Just remember tpo pull your hand away quick lest it get sucked into her chompy vortex.
Sits without support - For sure
Mouths objects - Do shoes count? How 'bout zippers? The bookcase? And the dog?
Passes objects from hand to hand - Definitely, I feel like Wren is incredible good at some of the finer motor skills at her age. She can locate her paci on the floor, get to it and convey it to her mouth before I even have a chance to pretend to clean it off with my mouth.

Advanced Skills (a few kids can do):

Lunges forward or starts crawling - See above re: legless zombie, also bonus video below.
Jabbers or combines syllables - I think she does this. Sometimes it's all "blah blah blah waa ma wa" but she has started experimenting with sound in othe ways too like making one continous noise and flibberting her lips or shaking her head back and forth really fast to change the sounds coming out.
Drags objects toward himself - Or, you know, goes over and gets them and picks them up. Whatever.

Bruce takes her to the doctor next week. I can't wait to see how much she has grown. I bet it's going to be a lot. Like, what have you been giving this child a lot. She's my chubby little chunker and I love her to bits. Though I would like her a whole hell of a lot more if she'd just sleep at night.

Wordless Wednesday: Hmmmm

2011-11-09T12:28:00.000-06:00

Baby Boogers

2011-11-06T21:34:00.001-06:00

Today, across the momoshpere, was a day widely decried as the day Daylight Savings Time turned their kids into total assholes. This happened to everyone but me. Thanks to the magic of germs, my kids turned into double assholes.

This is surprisingly enough Wren's first illness. I guess not being in the disease vector that is day car had spared her for almost six months but it had to happen eventually. Sad little baby has an awful runny nose, a slight fever and a horrible freaking attitude. She's been tugging her ears and shaking her head all day so I fear for her ears. The teeth may also be in play. Wren used the extra hour last night as an opportunity to wake up an extra time or two to nurse and rub her boogies on me chest. Four times. She got up FOUR TIMES. And then we were all up by 6:15. You can extrapolate how much sleep I got. I think this morning was the longest morning I have ever had. I was ready to give up at about 9:30. Wren spent the day unable to cope with her snots and was alternately refusing to nurse, freaking out at having her nose hoovered and smiling like a goober at her daddy. Who was also sick. And useless.

Calder is only slightly snuffly but managed to twice as crabby as his sister. DST did a number on him, so looking to avoid additional conflict, I let him watch a bunch of Disney DVDs on the portable player all day. Except for when I had him help me clean the bathroom. Mother of the year, I am not but we all made it through the day with a minimum of time outs and wine. Hey, he only told me he didn't love me any more a couple of times today. And my bathroom is clean to boot. I can live with my decisions. I did what I had to do to survive but god help me, if either of these children develop an ear infection I am going to cry.

Present Planning

2011-11-05T09:48:00.000-05:00

So the toy commercials have certainly ticked up now that Christmas is less than nine weeks away. This has not escaped Calder's attention. While he has started asking for stuff, I am pretty sure I already know what his big gift is going to be. Now that we live in a house with a yard and space I want to get him a bike. Or a tricycle. Or a bike. I don't know which exactly. He's only going to be four so maybe the tricycle is more appropriate but I feel like Calder is a big little dude and he might outgrow a trike before the snow has even melted. Then again I couldn't ride a bicycle without training wheels until I was nine (true story). What if he inherits my balance along with my nose?

What IS the right age for bike vs. trike anyways? Wren will probably also get some sort of riding implement/yard toy since she is too small to ask for stuff and we already have a crapload of baby and toddler toys. Unless they have come out with something amazing in the last three years. Have they? I don't want to rush out and get a bunch of gurrrrly toys because A. That goes against everything I believe in and B. I just brought home a bunch of my old dolls from my parents' so I've got those covered.

So, things I need advice on: bike or trike and has there been any new developments on the baby toy front? Or, alternately, suggestions for toddler appropriate outdoor playthings.

The Baby that Ate Chicago

2011-11-04T09:46:00.000-05:00

Well technically she hasn't eaten Chicago. Yet. She probably would given the chance however. Wren loves to eat. So far, she hasn't refused a single thing we have given her. That includes fruit pieces in a net, regular jarred stuff, primo organic goo from bags and even my feeble attempts at home made. Just because she doesn't particularly care for the flavor of something doesn't mean she won't eat it. Oh, she'll eat it all right, all the while giving you a whole lotta "What the hell, lady?" face. But she keeps trucking along. What she does like, she FLOVES. The ferocity with which she will rip into an apple slice is slightly frightening. Even with the peel still on, she will leave the net reduced to a slimy, empty bag of apple detritus in under ten minutes. Girlfriend only has two teeth so this is quite the accomplishment.

Despite being fond of food in general, Wren still appears to have express favorites like the aforementioned apple slices. She is also quite keen on foods in the orange family like sweet potato, squash and carrots as well as pears and "That thing there. That one. On your plate, Yes, that one. I want that, GIVEIEETOMEHNAOW!"

At the moment we are feeding her solids one a day in the evenings but Bruce will sometimes give her a mid day snack as well. This does not seem to have reduced her need to nurse whatsoever however. Perhaps she is having fewer bottles during the day but it's hard to tell because I am not here. All I know is that our feeding schedule has not changed one bit. I get home from work and feed her before making dinner. I feed her whatever purees and cereal she is getting while we eat dinner. I eat my (now cold) dinner and then feed her again after she has been ~~bathed~~ wiped down (who am I kidding?) and be-jammied. Then I feed her off and on until she goes to sleep. Sometimes she she wakes up for a snack around 11 and sometimes she wakes up at 11 and then again at 3. Other, better, times she doesn't wake up to eat at all until 5 and I cry sweet, salty tears of relief.

All this nighttime snacking has certainly kept my supply going. I was a bit worried when it took a hit after the irregular schedule of our trip to Massachusetts (Now with Less Power!) and then again when Bruce's parents were here. Sure I could have done our regular feedings while they were at our house but on the list of people that don't need to see my boobs, father-in-law is pretty far up. Of course I am still pumping three times a day at work when my schedule allows. Still hate it but at least it permits me to write poorly thought out blog posts (like this one!) on my iPod and check the goings on of Facebook and Twitter without feeling like a degenerate work avoider.

So why does Wren need all this food anyways? Well, for growing at an alarming rate for one thing. She is already comfortable wearing her 6-9 months clothes and I am beginning to fear that the Christmas outfits I bought for her will no longer fit once Christmas finally rolls around. She also needs the extra nourishment to fuel her new found mobility. Yeah, that's right mobility. More on that later.

A(n) (admittedly terrible) Poem

2011-11-03T15:05:00.000-05:00

A Happy Birthday to my dad

I admit, he's pretty rad

He builds things from wood and fixes cars

And for that I am sincerely glad

I could have tried to make this longer but it would have only gotten worse so I'll spare you. It's not like he will read it anyways. My father is the veritable definition of a technology-phobe. He may actually be afraid of computers and the Internet in particular. He used to pay us, like, five cents a name to type out the rosters for his softballs teams. When my sisters and I found out he had been given a cell phone by his employer, we wondered how long it would take for him to even use it. When my dad is not busy actively avoiding being thrust into the 21st century, he is many wonderful amazing things: a jumping bag for toddlers, a steadfast coach, a shockingly good dirty joke teller and a neverending font of useless information. OK, sometimes the information is useful, like the whole building shit and repairing cars stuff.

Of course the real reason my father may not read this is because they got their assess handed to them again by Mother Nature (tornado: check, Hurricaine Irene: check, Snowtober: check) and haven't had power for days. So, Dad, for your birrthday, I hope you get the best gift of all. Electricity.

I love you.

Wordless Wednesday: Lil' Punkin' Head

2011-11-02T16:43:00.000-05:00

Halloween!

2011-11-01T07:09:00.000-05:00

Did you know yesterday was Halloween? I'll forgive you if you got confused by all the Christmas decorations that are already out and forgot about it. Once again me and my poor time management skills tried to make Calder's costume. I'd say this one was mostly a success. Unfortunately I finished it well after he had gone to bed on the 30th so I couldn't fit him for it and ended up not being able to put on the fasteners so the boot covers and hood are pinned/stapled closed.

Only picture with the mask. He is wearing it upsidedown

He almost dropped her 2 seconds after this.

I also had to staple the bat ears in place because as they were sewn, they made the poor boy look sad and demented. I suppose I could have left them as is and gotten him some pity candy. Not that he needed it. Bruce took him out trick or treating for about two and a half hours. Calder filled his entire plastic pumpkin. Along with some candy, Calder and Bruce managed to pick up some new friends, a family from down the street who also have a superhero-obsessed three-almost four-year-old. Weirdly, the couple also has the same names as Bruce's parents. At least I won't be super rude and immediately forget their names (not on purpose!) like I do almost every other person I meet.

Halloween flashlight or magic baby mesmerizing wand?

Wren and I chillaxed at home in our dinosaur outfits and handed out candy to the dozen or so kids that stopped by. I was super disappointed in our turnout. I was so hoping that moving from an apartment building to a house would mean that we'd have hoards of trick or treaters. Yes, 12 is better than zero, but I wanted more, MOAR! I even decorated! Not well, but I did it. We had spider webs on the bushes, carved pumpkins on the steps and and yard ghosts by the path. Bruce even did this weird Cabbage Patch/My Friend dolls trapped in web cocoon display thing. He even back lit it with the sole black light holdover from my misspent youth. Despite our hopes and bests efforts, hardly any kids showed up. I would have even been happy with barely costumed teenagers. I just want to give candy to other people's children. OK, those last two sentences came out waaay creepier than I intended.

Fat baby dino cannot get enough flashy flashy

Somehow I magically (bribed with pizza) convinced Calder that he only needed to eat three pieces of candy when he got home. Granted he probably snuck one or two extras while I wasn't looking but it was hardly close to being any kind of sugar orgy. I mean, he was asleep by ten. That's pretty good for him under the circumstances.

Look! You can hardly see the staples!

Posing with other people's better deocrations

So yeah, I wore a dinosaur costume yesterday to hand out candy. Hell, I wore a dinosaur costume to work. I wore a full-body dinosaur costume to my work, which does not, as a habit encourage Halloween costumes. I wore a full-body, lime-green dinosaur costume to my work, which does not, as a habit encourage Halloween costumes and to which I commute 2 hours every day via two different forms of public transportation. I got issues.

Working hard for the prehistoric money

Now if you'll excuse me, I'll be busy forgetting about Thanksgiving because they are putting up Christmas lights outside my office.

Vintage Halloween Hop

2011-10-27T22:12:00.002-05:00

What I should be doing right now is finishing Calder's Batman costume. What I would like to be doing is sleeping. What I am doing is reminiscing about Halloween's past for Suzanne and Amy's Vintage Halloween link up. This is the first year in ages that I have no Halloween partying planned. As such, I have no costume for myself. This is good in its own way since that means I have more time to devote to Calder's. Sure I could just buy a Batman costume but I come from a long tradition of homemade costumes. Even with four kids, my mom managed to make our outfits from scratch almost every year. Sure sometimes we went as totally un-PC hobos or as a simple witch using her college graduation gown but we almost never had cheapy plastic masks of death in the current popular character of the era (much to our chagrin at times).

Mickey, I don't remember this one at all.

Every year our church had a Halloween party in the basement with treats, a costume parade and a contest for the best get up. I am fairly certain my mother was determined to win it every year. Unfortunately my mind is totally shot and I have no clue if we ever took home the top prize.

Me: Wipes, Sister: Baby Powder, other sister may have been Diapers?

If we ever did win it all, the above ensemble surely must have done it. Pretty creative I'd say. Of course diapers, wipes and powder may have been all my mom could think of after having four kids between 1978 and 1983.

This is NOT black face. Note: No peripheral vision whatsoever.

I distinctly remember one year, my mom made this amazing bee costume for my younger sister. She proceeded to immediately lose one of the balls from her deely bobbers and she cried the whole way around the neighborhood.


Ahhh, the days before you could say, "Your eyes were closed, take another one.

I distinctly remember the making of this costume. There are abouit 4000 coats of yellow spray paint on it since the cardboard kept absorbing it.I also had to trick or treat one handed since I could reach all the way around the box to grab my bag with both hands, even with a pillow case. Oh how we coveted those plastic pumpkins everyone else had.

All my mom's hard work stuck with me through the years. Like most normal teens I drifted away from the elaborate costumes and trick or treating but that all stopped my senior year in high school. For our senior Halloween party, a large group of us decided to attend as a huge group of Star Wars characters. I got picked to be Leia, naturally.

I even made the hair donuts.

This was my first attempt as sewing my own costume, a tradition I have maintained pretty much ever since. I don't claim to be a great sewist or even a moderately good one, but the neat thing is, when you tell someone that you have made that giant dino suit all by your lonesome? No one cares how crappy the work actually is. Sure Calder may someday start begging for the latest and greatest Nick character or want to wear a superhero costume that is canonically accurate but that's why I have two kids, right?

Wordless Wednesday: Bubbles!

2011-10-26T18:25:00.000-05:00

It's Never Too Early to Think About Christmas... Cards!

2011-10-25T10:00:00.001-05:00

So waaaaaaay back when I was just a touch over 20 weeks pregnant with Wren, I had to go to the ultrasound by myself because Bruce had hockey. Or something. I just assume it was hockey. It's always hockey. Since I was in sole possession (OK, I maybe texted Cary as soon as I found out) of the answer to the sex of our child, I decided to find a fun way of announcing it to him. Seeing as how Macy's was on my way home from the doctor, I decided to pop in and pick out a really cute girl outfit and have it gift wrapped for him. Since all of the Christmas clothes were on super clearance discount sale I got two. One for the actual holiday festivities whatever they might be and one for nice, professional photographs that I can use for my Christmas cards.

This year, Shutterfly is partnering with bloggers to give away codes for 25 free Holiday cards. Unfortunately, no one reads my blog so I don't have any codes to give away BUT! You can swing by Bebehblog and BabyBabyLemon and enter their giveaways. I am a fan of Shutterfly and have been for years, I have been storing my photos with them since 2004 and used them to make an awesome invitation for my mother's surprise 60th birthday party. This all is to say that even though they are providing me with my own 25 cards, I would still be saying nice things about them. So, before you go off and try to win you own cards, here are my suggestions for what you should be trying to win!

A picture, 1000 words. Especially if you can only get the family to sit still for one good shot.

I will be honest with you. I cannot stop laughing at this one. Though in our house it would totally be a picture of Bruce.

Love. Love love love lovelovelove. I love the black and white. I love the tree in the middle. I love that this card actually uses two photos so you don't even have to make the kids pose nicely together.

Have I convinced you yet? Don't forget there's also plenty of other gifts to choose from. We all know someone who is hard to shop for but I bet that person drinks hot beverages on occasion. If so, go over and see Suzanne and Amy to enter their giveaways or just go straight to Shutterfly and start creating your cards right now. Just don't forget to send me one.

Family Time

2011-10-23T22:19:00.000-05:00

I kind of feel bad for Bruce's parents, they come all the way down from Canada and the most excitement we could round up for them was a trip to the Evanston nature center and a Saturday at the hockey rink for one of Bruce's games and Calder's lesson. Oh wait. Bruce took them to Target. They're first trip ever. I am sure they'll treasure it always.

Checking out the turtles with Grammie

The worst part is, all of these things, we couldn't do all together because there is no way we can fit four adults and two car seats in our car. It's not even that small. Why DON'T they make six seaters any more? My turn to miss out what the nature center. Apparently the guy there took all the animals out of their cages so Calder and Wren could pet them. Except the snakes, they had just eaten. I bet Calder was mad he missed that part.

OMG adorable sweaters

The weather in the Chicago area was nice-ish for their visit. There was rain but there was also plenty of sun for everyone to hang out in the back yard blowing bubbles and playing Calder Attack. Bruce's mom came with us to the hockey stuff. Originally we were going to treat Calder to a happy meal to kill the hour or so between ice times but the fire house just down the street from the rink was having a fire safety open house with bouncy castle and free hotdogs. Free lunch is always better than any other kinds of lunch and once Calder laid eyes on the bounce house, we knew there was no chance he'd shut up about it. You could also go look at the trucks and stuff and there was an emergency-ladder climbing station and a guy making stuff with balloons. Did you know Bruce's mom is secretly hilarious? I had no idea. We had left Calder's balloon sword in the car during his lesson. Since the day was pretty warm, when we got back to the car it had half deflated. On the drive home my mother-in-law was attempting to placate Calder by repositioning the still-inflated portions into another sword. After a while I heard, "Oh, that's not good." and I turned around and just busted a gut laughing. Not only had the normally very straitlaced woman just made a balloon penis for her grandson, she actually pointed it out to the rest of the car. I die.

The best part of their trip was that I finally got to see pictures of Bruce as a kid. Weird, I know, right? I have only been to his parents' place once and since they were military, they moved a lot so a bunch of their stuff is in storage. His mom brought a little photo album down for us and let me just say, the Bard is maybe not as strong with Calder as I had previously believed.

Dude. DUDE.

The Imaginarium of Dr. Calderus

2011-10-21T10:58:00.001-05:00

A long, looooooong time back, I briefly mentioned Calder's cups, the row of coffee mugs in the window of the apartment next door. When I said he had constructed a relationship with them I wasn't kidding. In his mind they were "his" cups and when he saw them he would exclaim, "My cups!" He also told them hello in the morning when getting his diaper changed and would say goodnight to them before we put him to bed. What a wonderful place it must be, the innerworkings of a toddler's brain. I can only guess, having no real experience in this field, that being two is like being on hard drugs ALL THE TIME. Sadly, now that Calder is older and we have moved, his cups have fallen by the wayside but his brain continues its frenetic activity and just may possibly have gotten weirder.

Calder, it seems like, is ALWAYS playing pretend. Is that a symptom of having almost no friends his age to play with? Possibly. Or is it because while I have been busy freaking out about how big Wren is getting, Calder has been busily creeping closer to four than three and now has the brain doohickey maturity to go with that. So now instead of emotionally imprinting on random inanimate objects, Calder is making up complex histories and backstories for them. Like this plastic Mountie figurine that he used to tell me was named Charlie Paper and that he liked to fight bears. Except now his name isn't Charlie Paper so stop calling him that, he doesn't like it, Mom! I think he still fights bears though. Calder also has a whole rotating cast of puppets and stuffed animals that he uses to enact highly overwrought kiddie soap operas every time he is sent to his room or put to bed against his wishes. I'll close the door and shortly the sounds of, "No hitting, Blue Puppy! Go time out!", throws Blue puppy across the room, "You so MEAN, Momma!" will come wafting out into the hallway.

Playing dress up and pretend are some of Calder's favorite everyday activities. Sometimes he'll use his vast supply of dress up clothes to quickly cycle through character after character: Cowboy, Princess, Dr. Fireman (the doctor who is also a fireman), Chef, back to Princess, just Fireman, Puppy, etc and so on. Other times, he'll just spend a solid chunk of time in one outfit or another just going about his regular activities. Even superheros like to chase bubbles in the yard apparently. Once he even pulled down all the clothes hanging in his closet and had a fashion show for me. I clapped and cheered like a moron for ten minutes while he pranced around in his outfits and made a mental note to stop letting him watch Top Model with me. Project Runway is still on the table however.

Dress up clothes are not necessary to drive Calder's flights of fancy. Being the boy-iest of boys, he can turn anything, ANYTHING into a gun and he will spend stretches of time storming around the house, fighting imaginary crime and refusing to answer to anything other than whatever superhero he has decided to pretend to be at that moment. "No, Momma, tell Wolverine to go brush his teef." Sometimes to mix it up, Calder will play the bad guy and go around the house practicing what he calls his "evil laugh". It's really very good. I may have one of the few children outside of Gotham who actively aspires to be a super villain some day.

Calder has also invented a whole stable of games for us to play with him. Shockingly, they all involve either running, throwing, hitting, or fake shooting and almost all of them end with the word Attack: Chief Attack (irritating the dog), Baby Attack (making block towers and trashing them before Wren can do it) and my favorite, Calder Attack. Calder Attack is one long protracted solo game of dodge ball. Basically, Calder runs around the back yard while Bruce tries to pelt him with various balls: bouncy, soccer, volley and basket being the usual weapons. For obvious reasons, the both really LOVE this game. It's great for burning off energy and frustration on both sides of the throwing arm.

Sometimes I do worry that Calder is lonely without a ton of other kidlets to throw down with and is missing out on quality playtime but I don't think I should let it darken my thoughts too much. As he said as he went outside to kill aliens with Grammie on Wednesday, "Don't worry, Mom. I got this."

Wordless Wednesday: Get Down, Baby!

2011-10-19T06:45:00.001-05:00

Canadian In-Vasion

2011-10-17T10:49:00.000-05:00

Several weeks ago Bruce and I had a discussion about when his parents should come for a visit. It went something like this:

Bruce: When should my parents come? They are open to whenever.

Me: Any time except for when I'm in Massachusetts because that would be pointless.

How that conversation should have gone:

Bruce: When should my parents come? They are open to whenever.

Me: Any time you don't have hockey every day for over a week.

So, they arrived last Wednesday and we have done exactly nothing but sit around my house with them. Due to a lack of vacation days, I am stuck at work and when I get home, Bruce has already left for hockey. This weekend we might have been able to do something fun except my wallet was stolen on Thursday night so I have no access to any money. Then Bruce, Wren and I came down with nasty colds and slept through most of Sunday. I'd feel bad for his parents except I know that they are really only here to bond with the kiddos and they are certainly getting that done in spades.

However, it is a little weird to play solo hostess at night after the children are in bed and Bruce is gone. Any thoughts I might have had about throwing on a pair of sweatpants and drinking half a bottle of wine after the kids are in bed are completely scuttled. Also, blog posting has been put on hold because I am not sure that his parents even know I have a blog and telling them would be weird seeing as how it's been, oh, over four years now.

Wordless Wednesday: Fried Butter and Other Stuff

2011-10-12T06:14:00.001-05:00

Let Me Tell You a Story

2011-10-11T20:50:00.000-05:00

Ten years ago today, Bruce was accosted in a bar by a drunk chick. She was wearing a ridiculous mini skirt and some totally slutty boots. After talking some incoherent nonsense for a bit she finally let him go to the bathroom like he originally wanted. Eventually said drunk chick was dragged off by her friends to go to a bar with dancing. Determined not to ever dance in public, drunk chick conned one of those friends into returning to that first bar with her, where she apologized to Bruce for being a moron. Bruce, ever gracious, asked for her phone number.

They dated for a bit, moved to Chicago, got married and had two amazing kids. She never stopped talking incoherent nonsense though. Turned out the alcohol had nothing to do with that.

Not the End.

Five Months

2011-10-10T06:37:00.000-05:00

Today is Wren's fifth monthday. Every day I look at her and see how much she's grown and want to shout "When did you get so big?! Stop growing, dammit! I can't afford to want another baby!" I have no idea what the exact measurements would be but she seems so incredibly huge now. Enormous. She's got thigh rolls and elbow dimples. With a little help she can stand on the couch and look over the back.

I can't believe that dress won.

Wren loves her brother very much and often saves her biggest smiles for him. I think Bruce gets the most though. She's also very passionate about her pets and has charmed Molson to an alarming degree. Yesterday I watched her love up on him, pull at his feet, tug on his ears and try to eat his fur for about thirty minutes. A few times he came over to me for some pets and then WENT BACK TO HER. A cat. Went back for more baby abuse. Miracles.The dog doesn't get ignored either. It was amusing to see her get so frustrated at my mom's house because the dogs there just did not give a damn. No food? Not interested.

Nice kitty. Patpatpat.

Along with rice cereal and carrots, Wren has now tried bananas and peas and likes them both. As well as some closely supervised teething biscuits. As soon as I get my shit together I plan on making my own baby food. I have two cookbooks dedicated to it after all. I have a feeling she would eat whatever we let her try regardless of its homemade status.

Teef for eating.

She is this close to getting into a crawling position. I have seen Wren get up on her knees several times and she can pushup like a champ. Coordinating the two is currently a challenge but if you position her arms while she is on her knees, she will hold it for a few beats. Temporarily, to get at the things she wants she sort of inchworms. Gets her butt up in the air and then tries to push herself forward. Depending on the floor surface it might work. Sometimes it doesn't. Sometimes she goes backwards. Wren is still babbling a lot and has figured out this annoying shrieking thing. It doesn't necessarily mean she's unhappy. Just bored and wants attention. She does this a lot. Too much even. I mean, I have to pee sometimes.

Mastered Skills (most kids can do):

Distinguishes between bold colors - I have no idea how we would detrmine this. It's not like I can ask her.
Plays with his hands and feet - Wren's obsession with her feet led to an interesting little contest between me and my brother-in-law to see who could put their foot in their mouth. We both won. Or lost, depending.

Emerging Skills (half of kids can do):

Recognizes own name - Maaaaaybe? Or pehaps it's just my incredibly shrill way of saying "Wrennie Bird" that gets her to whip her head around like that.

Turns toward new sounds - See above. Definitely reacts to the dog barking, cat meowing, brother yelping.

Rolls over in both directions - Yes, she's much less reticent about the front-to-back now but she still prefers to remain on her tummy.

Advanced Skills (a few kids can do):

Sits momentarily without support - She apparently learned to do this while I was at work on Friday. And her version of momentarily is actually more like kind of long.

Mouths objects - Objects, pets, cousins, my face.

Separation anxiety may begin - It's possible but eh. At the reception for my sister, Wren was pretty tolerant about letting other people hold her but as the night wore on she pretty much cried for anyone except me or my sister. However the next day she was more than happy to sit with one of my aunts and had spent the last 4 hours of our Big E trip being worn by Kathy, my sister's mother-in-law. Wren has become a bit needy about the holding though. While she used to be pretty content in her jumper or chair, now if we set her down for even a minute without a full compliment of amusements, her displeasure will be made known.

Regardless of what she can and can't do at this stage, I love her like whoa. I love having someone who will let me snuggle and kiss to my heart's content. I look at Calder and I look at Wren and I know this stage won't last for long. Soon she'll be a romping stomping toddler and then a shouty little thing who won't let me get too close unless tired or hurt. But just like Calder, I know I'll love her just as much as I do now, even if it is a tiny bit harder sometimes.

So That Wasn't Everything

2011-10-08T10:14:00.000-05:00

One thing I failed to include in my trip roundup was Calder's run in with Jack the Baby-Eating Beagle. Jack is a former resident of my older sister's house but after discovering his taste for baby flesh was unquenchable, he was shipped off to my parents' house to live out his crotchety old age in a mostly baby-free environment.

This arrangement works out pretty well unless, you know, someone like me drops by with their kids for a week. Calder has seen the pictures of his cousins in the aftermath of their respective beagle encounters and was warned heartily to stay away from the dog and, above all things, to not screw around with his food or toys. He was able to listen as much as he ever is and successfully stayed away from Jack about 75% of the time. Sometimes his compulsion to tenderly cradle a dog's head in his hands and kiss it on the nose is just too strong. These moments would leave me holding my breath fr much longer than necessary but as long as I was around to patrol the boy and the dog, I didn't worry.

Until I left to go grocery shopping for my mom. She and my sister's mother in law were busy making food for the party that night couldn't intervene soon enough when Calder tried to shove the dog off the couch. Luckily for him, Jack only caught a mouthful of hair and a tiny bit of scalp on the back of his head, faring much better than either Q or Pickle. (I would link to pictures of them but Keira is apparently unable to label her posts so I can't find them.) Of course by the time I got home from the store, Calder was fully emotionally recovered which allowed me to grill him as to why he would shove a dog he had repeatedly been warned against. This is the answer I got. "I wannaded to sit on da couch but Jack was on da couch so I pushed him so he not be on da couch anymore." In a way, that makes perfect sense.

The Big Everything

2011-10-06T22:52:00.001-05:00

My children are awesome travelers. Awesome return homers, not so much. Calder has been screaming at me from his bed room for the last 90 minutes because I won't go lay down in bed with him. Something I only do if he has a particularly troubling nightmare. Or if we are at Gramma's and I am dying from allergies and just took three Benedryls and need some frickin' sleep. Not just for regular going to bed times. Ferberizing a three-year old. Is that a thing?

Let's remember better times then, shall we? I was not kidding when I said Calder and Wren are ridiculously good at traveling. On the airplane Calder was content to watch Nick on his own TV (JetBlue, I love you. Call me.) and Wren just chilled like the happiest baby ever that she is. On the way there she slept about half the time and on the way home not at all. She made maybe two half-assed "wah" noises and was immediately calmed with a boob in her mouth. I must admit, not being a total public breastfeeding pro, (Wren hates her cover, likes to rip if off as much as her bother does) I was glad to see my plane was small and there were only two seats on each side of the aisle so I was not in any imminent danger of flashing unsuspecting strangers. This seating arrangement also had the added benefit of allowing me to put Calder on the window and isolating him from any potential annoyees.

Oh good. Now he's yelling that he hates me. Because I won't cuddle with him.

The wait in the airport for my sister and her hubs to show up and help me carry all my shit wasn't even that bad. Wren was still her insanely good-natured self and Calder found two adorable tots in Red Sox shirts with whom to cavort in the baggage claim. He even willingly shared his Spider-man. After picking up our rental car, the five of us had the fastest drive ever from Boston to Westfield and both of my offspring slept a good portion of the way.

I have resorted to just turning the light back on and shutting the door so he doesn't wake the baby up. I can't handle two children hating me.

Our whole trip was simultaneously quite busy and quite boring. I got to watch the Red Sox shit the bed on their home station and attended a second reception for my sister's wedding which you will not even find remotely interesting. Unless you think several kids in ridiculous outfits abusing their photo booth privileges and me eating my weight in carrot cake is interesting.

Hmm, now it's quiet. This is either good or bad. Pleasebegoodpleasebegoodpleasebegood.

Did I mention the rain? Yes, the rain. The whole time we were there was a total washout (like the Sox!) save Friday when a bunch of us trooped over to the Big E to eat various things dipped in butter and chocolate. While at the Big E I made what was perhaps my worst parenting decision ever and agreed to buy Calder a giant inflatable hammer. That squeaks. I have already threatened to pop it twice now (tonight) but I did also leverage it into him eating an entire serving of peas yesterday. Turpin's Folly? This remains to be seen. Oh wait, Turpin's real folly was when she accidentally poisoned her son by giving him ice cream with egg in it. Damn you, Ben! Damn you, Jerry! Thankfully, there was a Rite Aide between the fair and our cars so I was able to get him nice and antihistamined relatively soon after trying to kill him. The allergy meds had the added benefit of knocking him right the hell out and he ended up sleeping from 7 to almost 9 the next day. A portion of that with his underwear clad butt riding high after he rolled over while I tried to get him in some more comfortable clothing.

Still quiet. I am afraid to look.

I also used the Big E as an opportunity to meet one of my favorite internet people, Suzanne, over at Bebehblog, and her troop of gingers. Calder and Little E were immediate rickety contraption riding BFFs and she really does have the cutest children ever that are not my own. Suzanne is also very nice and totally agreed with me that when one purchases $1 sunglasses at a fair, one ought to buy ones that are somewhat ridiculous. Like say, making you look like they are recasting The Fly. This was also the first time I have ever met anyone who reads my blog that is not related to me or a meat-life friend. I am super glad she turned out to be awesome and not a serial killer or a baby-napping weirdo. I think this makes me a real blogger now. Where's all my free stuff?

This is too good to be true. He doesn't usually cave this quickly.

The best part of our trip was meeting my newest nephew, Logan, AKA Wolverine von Purplehands. He is SO SMALL. Even though it was only three months ago, I find it difficult to believe that Wren was ever that teeny. And what did she think of her cousin? Hard to tell since she's considerably pre-verbal but her first instincts were to try and eat him. I don't blame her. He IS eminently nommable. Other things that Wren wanted to eat: EVERYTHING, so I ended up buying a jar of carrot baby food for her and maybe let her chew on a bread crust while I tried to eat an enormous prime rib. But I digress. Logan may be even more pleasant to be around than Wren. I think I only heard him cry twice and my S-i-L admitted that sometimes she wakes him up at night to feed him otherwise he'll sleep through. I think I almost slapped her right then. Kristin is pretty committed to the whole cloth diapering thing and I admire that but the sheer amount of fluffy butt on him was hilarity itself. He looked like an insect: round head, small torso and GIANT ABDOMEN. All she needs is a pair of deely bobbers and she's got an instant Halloween costume for him.

Dammit. I caved and checked. He's still awake, wrapped in his sleeping bag on the floor and sniffling into his blankie like the most pathetic caterpillar ever.

Oh hey, know what's really weird? Your father referring to your chest as "the milk store". As in, "Looks like Wren wants to go shopping at the milk store right now." You know what's even weirder than that? Your brother-in-law thinking that milk store is soooo hilarious that it must be used for the rest. of. the. trip. And even weirder still? Having a conversation with your dad that ends up with you holding your hands over your ears and singing the "I'm not Listening to You" song. There are some things that you just cannot unhear so it's best to take preventative measures. Any time I hear my father utter the phrase "That junk's still being used", I am going to end up with ear wax on my fingers and going LALALALALALA until my throat bleeds. And these people wonder why we don't visit more.

Wordless Wednesday: Carrots!

2011-10-05T19:56:00.000-05:00

Myth! Myth! Yes?

2011-09-30T08:22:00.001-05:00

I saw this article on the Yahoo! scroll and I was intrigued. Baby myths, you say? I should go debunk myself and get my parenting skills up to snuff. So I read it...and was all huh, people actually believe this stuff?

Myth: Infants need to be bathed every day.

I gave Wren a bath on Sunday after she shat all over herself and also because I literally could not remember the last time she had one. Every day? I am luck to hit every week. When do people find the time to do this? The whole process of bathing the baby take at least 45 minutes. I could be using that time to make dinner or help Calder learn his letters or watch old episodes of Bones. Wren's not going anywhere important. As long as she doesn't actively smell, skipping baths is not the end of the world.

Myth: Babies sleep best in a room that's silent and dark.

People have homes that are silent? Do they live in the middle of Yosemite or something?

Myth: When infants are running a high temperature, rub them down with alcohol to lower their fever.

What? I have never even heard of this. Are we sure this is a thing? This isn't really a thing. This can't possibly be a thing. They are just messing with us.

Myth: Letting your little one stand or bounce in your lap can cause bowlegs later on.

There's a 99% change my kids are going to be bow legged or knock kneed no matter what we do. Calder walked at nine months. I'll take my chances, guys.

Myth: Listening to classical music will raise your baby's IQ.

OK, I'll admit. I maybe kind of bought into this. Actually, I had heard about the classical music thing in high school, so on the way to taking my SAT IIs, I decided to give it a try. Except I didn't have any classical music on cassette so I had to listen to the Nightmare Before Christmas soundtrack instead. Did it work? No idea. When I got there I realized I had signed up for the Math II test that DID NOT ALLOW CALCULATORS. How could I be expected to do cosines without my beloved T-85? Weirdly, I did score really high on the verbal tests despite my total lack of reading comprehension skills.

Myth: Let your baby cry it out; if you pick her up whenever she's wailing, you'll spoil her.

Now that's just mean. Letting your baby cry like that. Well, it's mean right up until the baby has spent the last 11 months crying every time you try to lay them flat. Sometimes babies just need to suck. it. up.

Myth: Babies should be woken up in the night to have a wet diaper changed.

People do this? Wake up a sleeping baby? There are two things in this world that should never, ever be woken up because it will only make your life miserable. Those things are babies and my friend KT. Do not mess with KT.

Myth: It's dangerous to immunize your infant if he has a cold or a low-grade fever.

Was I supposed to tell the doctor things like this? Calder had ear infection approximately 65% of his first year. If we had avoided shots due to the sniffles he'd have dengue fever by now.

Myth: Never apply sunscreen to an infant under 6 months of age.

At a baseball game I once saw a baby the color of a tomato. I feel that a screaming, itchy, peeling baby is way worse than possibly getting cancer. Only one of those things is something I have to deal with right now.

Myth: During the first month of a baby's life, it's critical that all baby bottles and nipples be sterilized.

By sterile they mean not covered in pet hair right? RIGHT? Let' say a pacifier falls under the couch. Do you A. Wash it, B. Get a new one or C. Put it in your mouth and then give it back to the baby? Don't lie to yourself.

Myth: The safest way to put an infant to sleep is on her stomach.

If you do not know about this by now you probably don't have the ability to be reading this list.

Myth: Putting rice cereal in your infant's bottle will help him sleep.

That just seems like a bad idea to me. So when I get vomited upon at 4 am it will be chunky? Not happening.

Myth: It's critical to keep your baby on a strict feeding schedule.

If you can maintain a schedule for anything, I admire you. This runs into a possibly having to wake the baby scenario. No freaking way. My boobs will still be here when you get up, kid, and I got shit to do.

Myth: Infants need hard-soled shoes to protect their delicate toes and keep their feet properly aligned.

I tried to put shoes on Wren once and it only made her confused and angry. She gets highly displeased if she can't see her toes. And, based on the horrendous condition of my mom's feet (sorry, mom) I have been led to believe that shoes will do nothing but mess them the eff up.

In short. I can't really belive that there are those out there that are confused about this stuff.Is this a lazy post? You bet, but I am on vacation. Deal with it. I'll be over here relaxing and rubbing alcohol on my baby to see what happens.

P.s. Is that baby in the article's head not huge?

Wordless Wednesday: Calder in Stuff (some of these are old)

2011-09-28T06:27:00.000-05:00

We Did Survive

2011-09-27T21:19:00.001-05:00

We did it! We did it! (insert Dora's annoying ass shaking dance here.) I will admit, being alone with my offspring was way less terrifying than I had imagined. Of course Bruce was only gone for slightly over 24 hours. Thanks, youth hockey team, for being kind of terrible and letting him come home early what with your not making it to the end of the tournament.

Actually, Saturday and Sunday didn't just go better than expected, they went well. Wren took a marathon late morning/early afternoon nap which allowed me to, get this, do things. Complicated things. In this one nap I was able to bake eggless peanut butter cookies with Calder, can pickled hot peppers from the garden, make lunch for the two of us and then do the dishes from all of these things. I was more productive than when I have Bruce around "helping". Sunday wasn't quite so productive but I did manage to get some floors swept and some laundry folded. When Bruce did get home I was even able to go down to my hole in the basement and sew some hair bows for a bit. I admit. I am proud of myself. I didn't freak out and lose my temper with Calder even once and I didn't maintain peace by letting him watch TV all day either. We painted. We built a train town all over the living room and then destroyed it. We gave Wren lessons in sitting upright. It was fun. And now I feel bad.

Wait, what? Yes. I had fun with my children this weekend and now I feel bad. I used to say that I never wanted to be a stay at home mom because I would be terrible at it. I would want too much me time and get angry too much. I'd let Calder watch TV all day and get frustrated spending time with people who can't wipe their own butts. I just knew I could never get my shit together and get stuff done and raise my children at the same time. As it turn out, that is false. I can do it. Now that I know I am capable of staying at home with my children (I might even be good at it), I can't keep fooling myself that being at work is what I truly want. But as long as we would like to continue enjoying such luxuries as groceries and health insurance I have to work and it makes me sad.

At least tomorrow I get on an airplane to spend seven straight days with Calder and Wren. I can't wait to pass them off on my mom.

I Don't See It

2011-09-25T17:56:00.000-05:00

People tell me that Wren looks a lot like Calder. I don't see it. Calder looks a lot like me and I think Wren resembles Bruce more. Maybe if she was bald? Or chubbier? I mean, Calder used to have a WHOLE LOTTA face, that could be a major difference maker.

Yeah, no. There's no way, 20 years from now, I am going to be flipping through the ~~box of unlabeled pictures~~ key drive folders and wondering which child is in which photo. There is no way anyone could ever confuse the two, hair or jowls be damned. That's being said, they're both pretty freaking cute.

We Are in Trouble

2011-09-24T09:15:00.000-05:00

Which sounds scarier: being alone at home with both kids for two days or being alone with both kids on an airplane? One of those has the possibility to end with me locked in the bathroom sobbing and... wait no, that works for both. Only the plane one has the possibility of Calder ending up in Guantanamo though. Now that would be one hell of a time out. Either way I am going to find out. Bruce just left for a hockey tournament in Michigan and he won't be back until late tomorrow then on Wednesday I am taking Calder and Wren to my parents' house. By myself.

My plan to survive this weekend involves liberal use of baby jail and Disney movies on VHS and my plane to survive on the plane is... um, Wren is really, really cute and JetBlue has TVs in their seats? No really, I honestly have Calder excited about that part. I have also told him that is he misbehaves they will make him leave the plane. I meant before take off but apparently he thought they'd throw him out in mid air and started to cry. Mother of the Freaking Year here. Calder is usually a pretty good flyer but I've also never been outnumbered on the plane before.

So, if you don't hear from me for a few day, wait, that would be normal, if you don't hear from me for over a week, you can assume we have been labeled a threat to America and sent on the worst tropical vacation ever.

Wordless Wednesday: Smile!

2011-09-21T21:57:00.000-05:00

Brand Man

2011-09-21T07:24:00.031-05:00

On Monday I got this email from Bruce:

"calder was helping put in a new garbage bag in kitchen garbage, but he didnt know how to do it, and then started talking about a Force Flex (used those words exactly) commercial he saw on tv."

Yeah... He probably watches too much TV. I know. We've recently renewed our commitment to keeping him on an all PBS diet because this isn't the first time Calder has asked for a consumer product by name. During my shows, Calder even asks for me to not fast forward through the commercials so he can watch them. (I know, never known life without a DVR.) However, it's not the usual flashy colors and animated mascots that are making Calder covet products like a Peoria housewife. Calder hasn't bothered to learn the names of sugary cereals and refers to them by the character on the box and he has never really asked for specific toys after seeing it on TV. However, several times in the past few weeks he's demanded Bush's Baked Beans (and no substitutes) for dinner. And he's gotten them. The kid's a sucker for a talking dog and I am a sucker for eating my dinner without having to fight with him.

I find this all very amusing as we are not particularly brand-loyal people around here. I always buy the same type of paper towels because I like them but everything else is pretty much up for grabs. Whatever combination of on sale/coupon works best, that what's we get. Generics are even better. I hate spending more money that absolutely necessary. My bathroom is filled with plain bottles and tubes printed with block letters. I buy that weird make-up at the fringes of the aisle. I couldn't even tell you what brand of garbage bags we have in the house at this very moment. I know they are white and come in an orange box... Maybe yellow? While getting the kind of food that Calder wants to eat is important to me, his feelings towards trash receptacles are not. So garbage bag marketers, if your goal is to convince a three-year-old child to purchase your product, congrats. Now all you have to do is wait 13 more years for him to get a job and a driver's license and you can reap your rewards.

Adventures In Babysitting

2011-09-18T12:25:00.001-05:00

Tonight Bruce and I will attending the wedding of a good friend. This will be the first time both children have been left in the hands of a non-relative for any extended period of time.

To say I am nervous is an understatement. No, I am not worried about the babysitter. She's a very nice and trustworthy young lady who would laugh hysterically if she knew I described her as such. I am worried for her. I mean, the kids are used to being guarded in a man-to-man defense. What will their reactions be when all of a sudden it switches to a zone? In the past we've even had two girls come over which resulted in a very effective full-court trap. What if Calder fakes left and then drives (her crazy) to the lane while Wren posts up a poop? Her pick and drool is also pretty nasty. Calder's outside won't come inside game is no fun to defend either. Being alone with two children is really hard, yo. I have been attempting it for over four months now and I still kind of suck at it. I hope the sitter is bringing her A game.

Growing and Growing

2011-09-18T11:10:00.002-05:00

My wee bebeh girl, who was just born yesterday don'tmakemelookatthecalender, has two teeth. Not one. Two. It's a good thing the doctor said we could start her on solids. But I am getting ahead of myself.

On Tuesday Bruce brought the kids back to the doctors office for the third in in as many weeks for Wren's four month check up. Which was nice and all but her appoint was actually on Wednesday. Fortunately they are very understanding and agreed to see the Bird anyways. Probably because we bring them so much business. I guess everything is OK. Bruce's reporting is always kind of shoddy. They do give out this nice sheet with numbers and stuff so that's all I've got. Percentiles are doctor provided, they have not been checked against the vast resources of the internet.

Length: 26.5 in., 95%

Weight: 15 lbs., 3 oz., 90%

Head: 16.5 in., 75%

That's a 3+ pound gain from two months ago. I spent about 20 minutes talking about what a chunker she was and OMG how much weight does this baby gain and what are we going to do in two weeks when none of her clothes fit anymore until and I went back and checked Calder's numbers from the same age. He was 16 lbs. even at 4 months. And he started out smaller. He was shorter at the time though which means my little girl may end up being tall like her Momma. It's a good thing that Bruce is a pretty good athlete* so maybe all those extra inches won't be wasted on her like they were on me. Me playing basketball = "Running and doing things with my arms at the same time? So not happening." I was pretty good at softball though, which I chalk up to the fact that that game mostly involves just standing around. I am very good at standing around.

Other than that? She got shots; they made her dopey and sluggish; I got to sleep for a whole night. I'm gonna call that a push.

So yeah, the food.We hauled the spaceship out of the basement for Wren's first ride into the stratosphere of culinary delights. Rice cereal, still repulsive even though it's being mixed with breastmilk this time. She seemed to take to it though it's certainly difficult to tell how much even made it in. I know how much I mixed, I know how much was left over and I know how much I had to scrape out of her neck folds later but it's still not really an exact calculation. Calder even took a few turns with the spoon, being as careful as a three-year-old can be. In the end, most of the cereal was confined to either her stomach, her face or the high chair tray so letting him help was not a total disaster. Seeing how much he enjoys being a big brother gives me a big ol' heart tug every time. It definitely made the bedtime that happened tantrum two hours later that much easier to deal with.

*Hockey isn't his only sport, you know. He played basketball and, get this, he was provincially ranked, yes RANKED at badminton. AHAHAHAHAH. Neeeeeeeerd.

Wordless Wednesday: Calder Vision Art House Edition

2011-09-14T06:00:00.000-05:00

Four Months

2011-09-10T14:30:00.000-05:00

I cannot believe it. My tiny little baby is four months old today. I swear I just squeezed her out yesterday. I mean, my stomach must still look like a shrapnel hit for a reason. Because I am supremely lazy this morning, I am going to skip right to the milestones.

Mastered Skills (most kids can do):

Smiles, laughs - Oh for sure. Wren is a happy little bird. The laughs are still more Jabba the Hut "hur, hur hurring" than high pitched giggles but whatever. Chortles. That's what I'd call them.
Can bear weight on legs - Sing it with me! Standing baby, standing baby. Has the leg muscles of an age-appropriate baaaaay beeee!
Coos when you talk to him - Just like her older brother and cat, Wren does not shut up. I can see that as my children get older I am going to need to invest in a sturdy pair of ear plugs. And wine. Lots of wine.

Emerging Skills (half of kids can do):

Can grasp a toy - Toys, glasses, earrings, hair. Nothing is safe from Wren's kung fu grip. I am going to have to take out my gauges soon and switch to studs because to Wren they are nothing more than baby handles. But probably not, Mom, don't get too hopeful. I mean, I really like these earrings.
Rolls over, from tummy to back - She can. She just chooses not to. Wren is a veritable pro at rolling the other way yet she frequently forgets about going back and just ends up pissed off, with one of her legs jammed through the crib slats at 4:30 in the morning screaming her face off because she has a pacifier stuck in her neck and drool all over her sheets. Why are bumpers baby death traps again?

Advanced Skills (a few kids can do):

Imitates sounds: "baba," "dada" - Wren does a lot of "um mumm mummmm"ing which I chose to believe is Mama but it gets better than that even. Bear with me on this. I swear. to. god. The other night Wren was repeating I Love You back to me. Sure it sounded more like this rather than actual words but I know what I heard so don't try to tell me otherwise. I NEED THIS.

Cuts first tooth - I know I have said this before but I am feeling the two lower middles might be on their way. The area is rounded and a small dab of Orajel certainly seems to shut her up. Thank god Wren's got better motor skills than Calder. She'll be able to hold her chew toys up by herself rather than gnaw my fingers to stubs.
May be ready for solid foods - Wren seems sort of interested in what's on our plate and like a good Turpin child she's definitely interested in getting her hands on beer bottles (I blame that on us buying fancy mircobrews with colorful labels more than anything.) but she's not overly invested on getting at what's on out plate. I think she's more concerned at the moment that we don't stop showing her with attention and allow ourselves a minute's peace to eat with out a baby finger jammed in our noses.

Outside of the Babycenter approved milestones, Wren is physically developing in leaps and bounds. She's a solid little chunker. Heavy but not squishy*. She fits comfortably into her 3-6 month clothing so I'd say she is pretty average, if not a bit long. We'll find out the actual numbers next week when Bruce takes her in. They are really getting to be frequent flyers at the pediatrician's office. Being this well muscled, Wren has started using her floor time to practice moving. While on her belly she can pivot around to get at the things she wants. This usually means her Lamaze princess doll. She just loves that thing. Sigh. Wren has also started trying to draw her legs up and push off to crawl. The only problem is the girl hasn't realized that the front half also needs to be involved in this endeavor and she usually just ends up driving her face into the ground. Silly bird.

*As an aside, I bet you a million dollars I would be a famous blogger by now if my kids had been fatter. It's true. Chubby baby rolls = page views. It's science. Red heads would work just as well. Chubby gingers have been proven to make the internet explode.

Strepping Out

2011-09-08T15:54:00.003-05:00

VINDICATED

Since the rash hadn't gotten any better by Tuesday, Bruce took the boy back to the doctor as directed. They did another throat culture on him and, based on some extra bad rashiness on his cheeks (lower ones), swabbed there as well. (The Boy got a new Hotwheels for his efforts.) The instant response tests were both negative but they sent Bruce home with a prescription for antibiotics anyways just because. Clearly, our doctor does not fear the medicine-resistant super bugs we hear so much about.

Well then. Today I got a voice mail from the office nurse saying the culture had turned positive. FINALLY. Whether it was the top or bottom, I have no idea. Maybe both? Ass-Strep doesn't really have that same ring to it as Scarlet Fever or Strep Throat. I am going to just say it's the former because it sounds way more dramatic. IT MADE MARY BLIND!* Since Calder's already on the meds there isn't anything for me to do except make him take more baking soda baths and sit around being totally right about everything.

*If you get this, I will love you forever.

Wordless Wednesday: Baby Slurm

2011-09-07T01:00:00.000-05:00

Do You Know What This Is?

2011-09-04T14:08:00.000-05:00

This is a picture of thousands of dollars worth of future orthodontic work.

This is Wren sucking her fingers exactly like I used to which kind of amazing based entirely on how awkward and weird it is.If you can't see or didn't know me as a child what she is doing is sucking on her index and middle fingers, palm facing up. This will eventually push developing teeth outward and widen the upper palate. End result? Giant mouth and giant overbite. This is only one of her many self-soothing finger sucking combos so there's a chance we'll get out of this with only minimum damage.

The Rash That Ate Calder

2011-09-03T17:17:00.002-05:00

So yeah, Calder still has that rash. It started as rough patches on his back waaaaaay long ago when he had that high fever. Now it is covering every single inch of his skin, Or at least I assume so. There are some inches that I do not have to acquaint myself with on a regular basis any longer.

Those aren't earmuff. Those are Clifford ears.

Because I am exactly that kind of asshole. I texted my sister to ask if her pediatrician husband would look at some pictures and give his opinion. Oh, and they were on vacation. Told you, asshole.


Where it all began.

Dr. Brother-in-Law said that based on the pictures and other reported facts (fever) he had no idea. If he wasn't wheezing it wasn't anaphylaxis so don't worry about that and Calder hasn't had any eggs anyways. I've gotten waaaay better about that whole accidental poisoning thing lately. Dr. BiL also ruled out bacterial infection due to the lack of other symptoms so it's probably viral. The term Super AIDS was also bandied about but that's what I get for bothering him on vacation, now isn't it?

That is one adorable belly button.

Because I am nothing if not stubborn, I made Bruce take Calder to the in-person doctor today. They had no idea either. Apparently it looks like Strep but the test was negative. It's probably just viral. Is that the first thing a pediatrician learns in med school? We were told to just wait and see. If the rash hasn't cleared up by Tuesday, we should bring Calder back in. No idea what they'll do about then that they couldn't do now. Hopefully whatever it is isn't contagious because Calder is currently party crashing next door. Maybe their doctors will know what it is.

Shorts

2011-09-02T11:15:00.000-05:00

One thing I forgot to include in the hockey post. Upon being told that he could not wear his equipment in the car on the way to the rink Calder told me, "I don't wanna be naked in the changing room with all the stinky boys."While I agree with him about the aversion to hockey stink (seriously, worst smell on the planet), this isn't the first time Calder has expressed weirdness his body. At the Bears tailgate, we had Calder change out of his wet clothes before we went into the game. At first Calder didn't want to take off his shirt in the parking lot because, as he told us, all the people would say "Ewww." I have no idea where he gets it from. I rag on my body all the time but I try to never do it in front of him and at home we are totally Naked People. We don't exactly sit around in the altogether just watchin' some TV but considering I am going to be busted in on while showering no matter what, I don't exactly lock the door to change my clothes.

Wren has started laughing. Like, for reals YouTube-style baby giggles. It's pretty inconsistent though since none of us can really figure our her sense of humor. It all started when she was randomly touching parts of my face and amusing herself. My eyebrows? Hilarious. Cheek? Totally Funny. Jamming a finger in my nose? Nothing but a sincerely shocked expression. Calder gets mad because she won't laugh at the things he finds to be entertaining like silly faces and really annoying, shrieky voices. I tend to agree with her there.

In addition to drawing people for the first time, Calder finally took a stab at making some letters. They were... close. I spelled out his name and he "wrote" them. Granted the were scattered all over the page in random locations and some only bore a vague resemblance to the actual character, I'll give him props for trying. Generally Calder doesn't like attempting things he doesn't have confidence in his ability to do. Like, skating. He'd rather sit on a chair until he is absolutely sure that he can stay upright and only then will he try a few shuffling steps. But these letters were alright. The C was good, the A was more of an H but I could see he had the right idea. Ls are easy enough and the E was only three horizontal lines with no backbone but I suppose that solved the whole, no idea which was the letter points problem. The R was surprisingly accurate. I was super proud and praised the hell out of him but unfortunately, I have not been able to get a repeat performance. I guess we will just have to send more cars and letters to Grandma.

Everyone in our house has a cold right now. This is making Wren cranky, me tired, Bruce miserable and Calder a bloody-nosed contrarian. How does one get a boy to stop picking his nose? Especially one that is stubbornly determined to do the exact opposite of whatever you say? At least I haven't seen him eat any boogers lately. Calder also has a full body rash that doesn't seem to be related to the cold. It's not red or itchy or anything, Just there. All over. It's like the entire surface of his skin has changed texture. We've tried Benedryl-ing him, not that he's eaten any egg products lately, but that doesn't seem to help. As long as it's not bothering him I may just well let it slide. Yesterday Bruce told him he was changing into a Skitter. That did not go over well.

Summer is almost officially over. I though I would have done more, you know, having practically the whole season off from work. I seriously believed we'd be traipsing around the Chicagoland area, doing lovely family togetherness crap and spending long summer evenings out in the backyard, enjoying the fireflies and gentles breezes. Unfortunately I didn't count on being broke, the proliferation of suburban mosquitoes and the lure of central A/C. As such, the only organized fun we managed to eke out this summer were two baseball games, one football game and one trip the science museum. The rest of the time was spent huddling indoors, changing countless diapers and watching untold hours of SpongeBob and Bones, depending on who was controlling the remote at that exact point in time. Hopefully Fall will be a little less lame and hermit-y. I have tentative plans to take both kids to visit the family in Mass. for the Big E later this month and Bruce's parents have expressed an interest in visiting.

The other night Calder had a nightmare. He gets them occasionally. Not night terrors, thankfully, but he seems to have inherited my tendency to have really vivid and frightening dreams about mundane shit. I spent many an evening, sleeping on the floor next to my parents' bed holding my mom's hand because of a reoccurring ferris wheel dream. She must have woken up with dead arm a lot from sleeping like that. To this day I sometimes scare the beejeebers out of Bruce by yelping out "Spiders!" and clutching his face in my sleep. Thank god he loves me. Calder's nightmares are of course things that are scary to little kids. Big bad bugs. Monsters. The shower. The most recent scary dream was something much more benign however. The train left without him. That's all he kept saying, over and over, and while I felt bad for the kid, he was obviously pretty upset by it, I just wanted to be like, "Yes, that sucks and all but there'll be another one in, like, 15, 20 minutes." You call that a nightmare, Calder. I call it my life. Now let me go back to sleep.

Wordless Wednesday: It's a People!

2011-08-31T07:00:00.000-05:00

Hockey Lesson in Words

2011-08-30T13:47:00.000-05:00

I feel like a few uncaptioned pictures do not even come close to doing justice to Calder's first pre-hockey lesson.

First step out on to the ice

Bruce sprung the whole idea on me late Wednesday afternoon. I was at home, having a vacation day that needed to be burned before Labor Day, and he was all, "Oh, Calder has hockey tonight at 5:30." Um, I was not aware we had signed the boy up for hockey considering we don't exactly have money to throw around like that. But apparently Bruce, in exchange for helping out, got Calder a slot in his organization's learn to skate program for free. It's about time his hockey did something that benefits me. ANd by benefits me, I mean burned my child's energy so I don't have to and can be used as a lever for behavior issues.

Chair rides

Right from the start the skaters were divided up into two sections. Calder's group was the never skated before kids. There were about four of them. I say about because they never really made it more than five feet away from the door in the boards and the kids would sort of just wander on and off the ice at will only to be herded back out there by a parent. The other group, the ones who could skate already, was something like 20 kids and they immediately went off and did skate-y type stuff. These kids were only Calder's age and slightly older and they could whup my ass on the ice any day. I am such a disappointment to my in-laws, let me tell you.

Barrel rolls

Bruce and Coach Scott worked with Calder's small band of wobbly misfits. To call this a skating lesson would be inaccurate. It was 45 minutes of learning to stand up with some intermittent chair pushing. Usually the chair pushing devolved into chair rides with one of the coaches zipping the kids around while they screamed their faces off. Additionally, there was some head, shoulders knees and toes, barrel rolling (my kid only), barking, and face-down inchworming across the ice. Once again, that last one was only Calder. No idea what the barking was for but they were also doing it so I was only slightly mortified about the rest. Calder did eventually managed to get up from the ice and stand on his own by the end of the hour. Did you read that? An hour. Calder did something for an hour without whining, without having a tantrum and without quitting because he couldn't do it. I was insanely proud of him. Like, crazy proud Mama. Like, Hockey Mom crazy. Though it did take a bribe of hockey juice (Powerade) and a cookie to keep him out there for the last 10 minutes, I don't really blame him. After wearing hockey skates for 15 minutes I am ready to cut off my feet and wait for the science to catch up enough to allow me to grow new ones.

Face plant in progress

Besides enrichment for my son, this whole pre-hockey thing is totally going to be worth it. Do you know what is really, truly funny? Kids falling down. Provided no one is mortally wounded I defy you to watch a large group of children crash into each other and tumble like dominoes and not crack a chuckle. I love watching kids fall down. Fortunately, pre-hockey provided that in spades. I am sad that I won't be able to go every Wednesday because they have to be there right when my bus is dropping me off from work. Lucky for me there is also a Saturday session with even MORE kids and even more spectacular crashings. Oh and that Saturday class, Calder had standing down so he let go of the chair and managed to take a few shuffling strides all by himself. It's like watching him learn to walk all over again and it makes me happy to think of my son in that way again. Cheerful, excited and eager to listen and learn. Not the three-year-old terror he is 85% of the time these days. Hockey is going to be good for him. ANd for me as long as those kids keep falling down.

Wordless Wednesday: Hockey Lesson

2011-08-24T21:56:00.000-05:00

Wordless Wednesday is Postponed

2011-08-24T10:11:00.001-05:00

Until after Calder has his first real hockey lesson tonight.

Ridiculous seal clap of joy: Orp! Orp! Orp!

School Daze

2011-08-23T22:17:00.000-05:00

It has come to my attention that Calder should probably start going to preschool soon. Like, right now, actually. I have to admit, I have put zero amount of thought into this. I just sort of assumed someone would come running up, waving a big "Your Kid is Three, Get Your Shit Together or He'll Never Make Anything of Himself!" banner in my face and then whip out some preschool forms for me to fill out. You see, Calder started in daycare at around two months old and I just kinda assumed that that same facility was were he would also attend preschool and eventually even do his kindergarten if we so chose. Which we would have. Because they were awesome. Except late last year Bruce's full-time work dried up (he was on contract) and from an income vs. expense perspective it didn't make sense to have him working part time with Calder in daycare three days a week. Now that we have a second kid and Bruce's weekday options are limited to working absolutely no (paid) time, we don't really have the funds to re-enroll Calder at the place he had been attending no matter how much we loved the facility and staff there.

Several months ago, feeling like I was depriving Calder of valuable developmental experiences, I engaged in a short discussion about the Chicago preschool testing and enrollment process that left me a gibbering maroon so I pretty much gave up on that whole idea. Seriously, it is insane. Getting into vet school without an undergrad degree would be easier. I have no idea how anyone manages to get their child enrolled in a CPS school without a Ph.D. in chaos theory. I cannot say that I wasn't a little overjoyed when we finally found somewhere to live that had a much more straightforward school districting process. I still may not know which town I live in exactly but I do know what schools Calder and Wren would attend if we stay here for any length of time. And, hey look, they have early childhood programs listed right there on the website! How thoughtful of them. Making it easy for blithering idiots like myself to sign a kid up. 'Cept fars I can tell, you have to either be economically disadvantaged or have a child that has language or learning issues in order to attend. In my mind we count as poors but I don't think the state of Illinois education funding programs would look at it that way. And I don't think the speech delay thing would work either as Bruce and I routinely look at each other and go, "Did you teach him that one?", when Calder drops a new vocab word on us. They are not always swears even.

As it stands, with me working full time and Bruce coaching hockey we barely make enough money to cover our living expenses and a tiny amount of extras like the smallest cable package out there yet those tiny extras mean we earn too much to qualify for the district preschool. Simply giving up those extras wouldn't help too much either. We certainly can't afford to send Calder to a private program without also sacrificing things like electricity and comestibles that don't have "cheese food product" at the top of the ingredients list. I want Calder to be in preschool. I think it would be immensely good for him; he gets lonely with only one friend around and I think he could use some TV-less structure in his day. Calder should be in preschool. He' extremely smart and needs an outlet for that. I just don't know how to make it happen. It kills me to see how miserable he can be at the end of the day, frustrated that he has no one to play with and no compatible outlet for his childish energies. How many three-year-olds would be happy to spend their day hearing a repeated, "Shh! You'll wake the baby"? At the moment, I feel like we are failing him. Correction. I know we are. Where's that banner-waving lunatic when I need him?

9 to 5 or more like 6:30 to 5:20

2011-08-22T22:48:00.000-05:00

It's worth noting here that I have finally gone back to work full time. I now spend my days telling people what to do without the threat of time outs and get to eat my meals the temperature at which they are supposed to be eaten. In fact, I started doing this two Fridays ago. I wold have written about it earlier but I have been too catastrophically tired to bother writing about it. Wren, in all her infant wisdom, has decided that now is not the right time for sleeping through the night and resumed waking up in the pre-dawn hours to eat and then refuse to return to sleep. She seems to aim for 20 minutes to an hour before my alarm goes off. Just enough time for me to not fall back to sleep afterwards. That's because she hates me for going back to work and leaving her all day.

The more absurd the hour she wakes up the better it is really. If she's fallen back into a deep sleep I can dress, shower, apply makeup and creep out of the house with limited interference from the rest of the household. If she's awake, I can do almost none of that because I am busy trying to feed the animals get Calder milk, make coffee, change the girl's diaper and take the dog out. Which is why I showed up at work today with no mascara or deodorant. Or eyebrows. I usually draw those on after the mineral foundation so with a white face, no eyelashes or eyebrows I looked something like Powder with a scraggly, damp ponytail. That's all still better than last Monday. Wren was awake and I managed to get ready but I was so reluctant to leave that I missed my bus. That resulted in a two mile walk to the El stop at which point I missed my train. I even had the elevator close in my face when I finally got inside the building. At least I had deodorant on. The thing is, I knew I had to leave, my bus comes at the same time every day, but Wren was smiling and happy and making "I love you, Mommy" faces at me and I knew if I put her down it would make her sad. Do you know who makes babies sad? Terrible people. Like axe murderers and mothers who abandon their children for 11 hours a day, five days a week.

I am not only tired at home, I am exhausted all day at work as well, fumbling my way through meetings, spread sheets and pumping sessions. And those pumping sessions? Ain't really doing their job. I am barely keeping up with what Wren eats. She hasn't had any weekday formula yet but Bruce had to bust out the cheater stash as I had two extremely rare solo social engagements this weekend. So I feel awful for that, not making enough food to build up a back-up supply, but I also feel terrible for selfishly spending extra time without my family and taking the boobs with me. It's no surprise that I burst out in tears when Bruce joked about the Bird being cranky because I had left awfully smalls bags in the fridge that day. I know he was just kidding but it's still an awfully mean thing to say. If you are keeping track at home: Wren hates me and so does Bruce.

I am working on the supply issues, pumping all I can and ordering fenugreek from Amazon. The extra pumping has helped a bit and I don't know about the herbs yet. I, in my sleep deprived stupor, sent the order to my old address and didn't receive the package until today. I can't wait to smell like a sugar shack and make enough boob juice to feed a day care. That's what the online reviews tell me anyways.

Of course Calder is still hanging around waiting to be loved. We have managed to reverse his previous pee-lapse through forced bathroom breaks and moderate beverage intake but who knows what new behavioral surprises my schedule will induce in him. When I got home today I was informed that he didn't want to be my friend anymore because I wouldn't come home from work to play with him earlier. As if I had a choice. No, Calder, I came home when I could to make dinner, eat dinner, put you to bed and then write a blog post and sleep myself before I have to get up and race out of the house to catch my bus before you wake up because that's all I will ever get to see of you until I am 70. That's a horribly depressing thought right there.

Final score: Wren hates me, Bruce hates me, Calder hates me and only one of these people understand the need to suck at the sweet, milky teat of a regular paycheck and healthcare benefits. I suppose I shouldn't even try to explain to them all where Amsterdam is and why I have to leave an hour earlier to call there tomorrow.

Flippin' the Bird

2011-08-19T10:37:00.001-05:00

I mentioned in her last monthday post that Wren had started to do some approximation of rolling over from front to back. She may have just been succumbing to gravity buy what happened on Tuesday night was undeniable. I had to put Wren down on the floor where I could watch her so I could have hands free to get dinner made, Bruce having left the house already for his hockey stuff. Her little seat is out of batteries with no vibrating there is no happy baby so the floor was pretty much my only option. She was on her back under the green music thingy all content and "I love you Mr. Smiley Caterpillar" so I took a few seconds while the pasta water boiled to check my internets. At this point in time, she was laying directly at my feet. Calder came over and sat in my lap so we could watch a video of a baby jamming along to Freddie Mercury. (Why cant my kids be that cool?) When the clip ended I got him off my lap so I could throw the spaghetti in that water and glanced down at Wren. Girl was now happily staring at her green thingy from on her stomach. She was literally six inches away from my toes and I missed her first time ever rolling over back to front. Just in case Calder had somehow assisted in the maneuver without me noticing, I returned Wren to her back just to confirm that it wasn't a fluke and then texted Bruce all excited about this new development. Wren had just hit a new milestone and I had been there to witness it!! Because of work I tend to miss these kind of things and it makes me sad. I definitely didn't see a lot of Calder's firsts. But this time my little girl did it just for me. I got to see her hit a milestone. I saw it first. I was the special one.

Or so I thought.

Until I got Bruce's text response, "oh yah we were practicing that today". Um? Excuse me? And you didn't tell me about it before leaving for hockey? Dumbass. Thankfully, she has done it way more than once or twice since then and I have been able to capture it on camera. I know you were worried.

Wordless Wednesday: Da Bears

2011-08-17T08:09:00.000-05:00

Mr. Malaprop

2011-08-16T21:39:00.001-05:00

No three-year-old child speaks perfectly and while Calder's language is generally very good, he definitely has his little peccadilloes. Like his stubborn refusal to acknowledge the word "she" or his adding an H before most "O" words. Hoctopus, hockagaon, Hoptimus Prime. There's also the random mish-mashing of words. For example, a remote control is just a "matrol". When Calder makes a grammatical or vocabulary mistake, we usually don't explicitly correct him but just try to include the right phrasing in our reply. "Her's got cute feets!" "Why yes, Calder, she does have cute feet." or "How you sink of dis?" "What do I think? I think it's great!"

However, I find some of his little malapropisms to be so endearing that I can't help but use them myself on occasion. My favorites include:

Suckeetos - You know, those annoying insects that drink your blood and make you itch like crazy?

Nickles - Where the baby drinks from, duh. Although they're more live silver dollars. Ba-dump-ching!

Geckos - Caves have them. So do empty rooms. Gecko! -ecko -ecko -ecko

Berzert - It's what get if you eat all your dinner.

Calder has also picked up some phrases, whether from us, friends or TV, that he uses much to my amusement. When he gets frustrated (usually Angry Birds generated) I'll hear him mutter, "Oh, nuts!" to himself. And if he is trying to disagree with me WITHOUT having a tantrum (rare) he'll throw out a forlorn, "Oh, no, no, no." Think Ducky from The Land Before time. I usual comfort him with a "Poooor Petrie" in response. That mostly confuses him though. Calder can also get sneaky with his langue. He'll word vomit out a list of things that we want him to do and finish with a "Hey guys, is that a great idea?!" Which yes, it is a great idea because that is what we asked you to do. However, Calder will slip in one or two items that weren't a part of the original request and which we probably would not think is a good idea. Like so: I gonna finish my chicken, get a cookie, put on jammies and brush my teeth, read some books, andgettheiPodandgotobed. Is that a great idea, guys?"

In less than positive verbal development, Calder has also learned to use words to hurt people. After sending him to time out in his room a few weeks ago I could hear him through the door going, "You are a failure! Mommy is a failure!" That's unnerving to say the least. Later on, I asked him what he thought failure meant and he said that it meant I wasn't being nice to him. I wasn't being nice because I gave him a time out. That he deserved. Apparently I am a failure at being a pushover. He also told me he wanted to kill me once. So I said, "If that's what you want, why don't I pretend to be dead?" and then refused to acknowledge him until he broke down sobbing, "No Mommy! I nin'nt meant it! I no want you be dead! I sorry, I sorrrrrrry!"

Occasionally Calder will use hurtful or bad words without even realizing it. He broke down crying once after my Mom scolded him for saying "damn". I was standing there all, "Uh, yeah, Mom. About that. He doesn't know that that's a bad word. Such as." Or like him calling me a dumabss last weekend. I have no idea where he got that one. Oh wait, yes I do. It's one of my top three names for Bruce. Especially when he is looking for something. "Where's my keys?" "In the door, dumbass." "Where's the olive oil?" Behind the flour, dumbass." Of course I mean it with the most sincere affection but I don't think preschoolers really get the nuances of adult language, which is why I got a, "Whatcha watching, kiddo?" "Sigh, Winnie da Pooh. Dumbass." Calder has also picked up some sarcasm. If he's feeling ornery, a request from us is often met with a very teenage "What-ever!" I have also been "Okay, Mudder"-ed a few times in recent history. Calder is three going on 13. Sweet. I think from now on we will limit his TV watching to just the shows on "peebeeesskids" or else we are going to have one mouthy smartass on our hands. I should probably stop saying that one too, huh?

The Paper Mama Photo Challenge: Eyes

2011-08-14T10:12:00.000-05:00

There's a first time for everything so I am going to attempt to do a linky photo challenge thingy. I found out about it from Suzanne and while I don't have any giant eyed children or fancy cameras, I think entering these things might challenge me to take better pictures with the children and equipment I already have.

Oh, hello. Is that your soul?

Paint Job: Project A

2011-08-12T22:36:00.002-05:00

Since Calder's room is a white-walled nightmare (to me) and needs a pop of color (and also smells a bit like taco-scented feet for whatever reason) I decided to ~~ruin~~ refinish two pieces of his furniture. Yes, I realize that bright colors won't do anything about the whole taco issue. But they might be so distracting I would hardly notice it. Originally, I had planned on painting a dresser that we pulled out of our old Albany Park alley to put in Wren's room but when I took the drawers off that one, it literally disintegrated, so I put it back in the alley. In Skokie. I drove a dumpster find five miles north just to re-bin it. Super.

Not wanting to waste the rollers, polyurethane and primer that I had already purchased, I decided to just re-do two other alley finds that reside in Calder's room: a dresser and a desk. To do this, I followed the directions given here and by "followed" I mean I did it way I adhere to any tutorial. I scanned it once or twice and then half assed my way through the bits I could remember, making shortcuts whenever I deemed a step unnecessary. Note: This is not recommended.

Now don't you worry. I am not about to start posting a bunch of crafty-ass DIY tutorials to make you feel bad about how you never get any shit done. No, just no. As a wise woman once said, if there is a project you can think of, there is already a tutorial on the internet and it's better than yours. Plus, I'll clue you in on a little secret. I am good at many things. Lots of stuff I can do very well. I am better than average at softball. I think I verbiate OK. I can sew and cook and do lots of other things well enough to get by and even impress some people. HOWEVER. I am not VERY good at anything. Anything I do well, there is someone out there, very easy to locate, who can do it much better. Trust. The only thing I excel at is being mediocre. That being said, if you did decide to embark on such a project, perhaps I can offer some Lazy Girl tips to assist you.

#1 Wear a mask while sanding. Especially if you are trying to remove an old finish. Unless you like crusty brown boogers and malignant lung diseases, in which case, knock yourself out.

#2 That sand between each layer of primer/paint/varnish direction? BULLSHIT. Even using the finest grained sandpaper I had on hand (240), each time I tried it I managed to strip off enough paint in places to necessitate reapplying in patches and generally making both pieces fit quite firmly into my janky-ass craft oeuvre.

#3 Don't let your three-year-old help. It may seem like a good idea at the time but it is not. At all.

#4 Make sure you get ALL the old finish off. Unless you like applying two coats of primer, two coats of paint, deciding it looks like ass, re-sanding everything and then doing THREE layers of each. Again. With patching because, despite your best instincts, you keep on sanding between layers because the damn paint can SAYS SO.

#5 Don't use red. Red covers horribly and requires multiple reapplications to obfuscate even the slightest of flaws. I know this. I have painted two dining rooms red and should have learned my lesson by now. Let this be yours. But me, I am dumb and wanted the colors to be bright and match a multitude of themes. Right now the goal was Superman. Spider-man, Captain America etc. Super hero colors, otherwise known as Eye-searing Blue and Holy F*ck Red. But in the future, they could be race car colors. Or trains. Or get scribbled on by a succession of semi permanent markers and ruin all my work. So despite everything I know about anything, I chose to battle the red. Again. And this time I was unable to pass off my crappy painting as a "faux finish". Never again.

Until Wren wants A Wonder Woman room.

Three Months

2011-08-11T10:59:00.000-05:00

Wren had her third monthday yesterday and as everyone in the hospital radiology department said, "What a big girl she is!" No kidding. She's not all that fat for a baby but she's quite long. And solid. I switched out a good portion of her wardrobe to the next size up and she is comfortably wearing a lot of the 3-6 month clothes without looking like she is swimming in them. It's a good thing Wren has the strength to go with her size. Holding up all that weight would be a difficult task for much lesser babies but lil' miss newscaster hair loves nothing as much as she loves standing. Holding you head steady? That's for amateurs. Wren would be the only 3-moth-old baby to walk if she could just get that whole balance thing down.

Only using one arm for balance unless you count the dog tongue.

Things that Wren Likes: To quote Buddy the Elf, "I like smiling. Smiling's my favorite." Except when standing is her favorite. Or her brother. It would be a lot easier to get Calder to stop doing all that annoying crap of his except that he just cracks Wren the hell up. She's one big ball of positive reinforcement for him. As soon as he walks into her field of vision, or hearing as the case my be, she'll whip her head around to find out what nutty baby-entertaining thing Calder is up to this time. The rest of us, all the while, are slowly going insane. Wren also loves her dog, her feet, vomiting on Bruce, her Sophies (two Giraffe teethers and one Lamaze princess), us (I think), boobs, the green plastic caterpillar thingy that Calder also loved and sitting on the couch watching Bones marathons with me. I may just be projecting on that last one.

Alright Mr. Turpin, I'm ready for my close-up

Things that Wren Doesn't Like: Falling asleep in the crib. Waking up to find out we have put her in the crib. Again. Laying down while awake unless we are all gathered around waving toys in her face. Getting an ultrasound on her butt.

Um. Yeah. There's not much else. She is still a ridiculous smiley happy baby. Such a difference a kid makes, I tell you. At this age Calder was teething and grumping and generally being a sourpuss Orson Welles all over the place. Wren, who may be teething herself, is congenial and charming and super duper personable about 85% of the time which is about the best you can expect from a pre-verbal infant. Oh yeah, about that maybe teething thing. I don't see any potential bumps but the girl drools like a Mastiff and spends a good portion of her non-thumb sucking time trying to gnaw her fingers off. It's always on the same side of her mouth too so I suspect there is something bothering her there. We'll see soon enough I guess.

And here it is.

I suppose I should have included her thumb on the lists of things Wren likes. She'll still take a pacifier when she's too tired and uncoordinated to maneuver her hands to her mouth or her car seat straps interfere with her range of movement but when free of constraints, thumb is king. Wren doesn't seem to have a hand preference yet, whichever thumb is closest to her mouth pretty much always wins. The loser has to settle for either fidgeting with her ear or playing with the hair on the back of her head. Poor child is loveying herself into a bald spot.

On to milestones I guess.

Mastered Skills (most kids can do):

Recognizes your face and scent- I guess so. Sometimes I even think she'll look at the correct person when we say "Hey it's your Daddy!" or something like that.
Holds head steady - Oh yeah. We get compliments (Is that the right word?) on her neck strength all the time which I think is weird because it was wobbly but now it's not. It's called growing. Who are all these bobble-headed babies that live everywhere else but my house?
Visually tracks moving objects - Mostly Calder but he would definitely be considered a moving object.

Emerging Skills (half of kids can do):

Squeals, gurgles, coos - Oh yeah, She's a regular chatty chatterson and she reently figured out how to do tiny raspberries. She was thrilled at that, let me tell you.
Blows bubbles - See above
Recognizes your voice - Sure why not.
Does mini-pushup - She did! Once. But I think she was trying to get away from me. I was singing at her again.

Advanced Skills (a few kids can do):

Rolls over, from tummy to back - She did!. Twice But I think it was more "falling with style" than it was any kind of coordinated attempt to reposition herself.
Turns toward loud sounds - Yes, once again, mostly Calder.
Can bring hands together, bats at toys - Oh yes, Wren is a regular Mr. Burns with the bringing the hands together. Some babies eat all peacefully with one hand gently resting on Mommy's breast. Not so much for Wren. She eats with her Very Serious Face, hands clutched together all "Eeeeeeeexcellent." And bats at toys? Pssht. That might be an accomplishment for other babies. Wren is so over batting at things and has moved on to the 4 month skill of grabbing the. So she can shove them in her mouth, naturally.

This is what is known as the Double Eeeeeexcellent.

OK, that's enough bragging I suppose. I don't want to start making other babies feel bad about themselves. Though I suppose if there are babies reading this they have other things to fall back on in life.

Wordless Wednesday: Butt Scan

2011-08-10T11:38:00.001-05:00

OK, some words. Everything looks normal. Yippee.

Mystery Fever: Now with More Rash!

2011-08-09T12:41:00.001-05:00

Calder has a fever. A mystery fever. It is apparently his only symptom. He has a small pin prick rash on his back and shoulders but that's been there for a few days and I figured that's from eating cole slaw on the regular lately. (Mayo, eggs, you know. Getting him to eat raw veggies is worth a minor allergic reaction in my mind.) Late yesterday afternoon Calder wandered into the kitchen being all weird. He sat down, got up, sat down again and generally just seemed really confused. When he told me that he was cold and that his body parts couldn't stop wiggling I realized the boy had a fever. Over 102 in fact. He started to cry and clutched my arm. "Mommy, I don't want to die!" If you felt a low rumble in the earth around 5 pm CST yesterday, they would have been me quietly losing my shit and trying to not scare my kid by crying. Fevers I can handle but panicky delirium, not so much. While I stood there imagining emergency ice baths and meningitis diagnoses Bruce had the presence of mind to get him some fever reducer. Smart one, that guy.

He also suggested we stick the boy in a cool bath. One, to take the fever down faster and two, because Calder really likes baths so maybe he would calm down a bit and stop worry about having to go to the hospital. Note: He came up with the dying and hospital thing on his own. What a morbid little dude. During his bath, Calder kept hugging me and telling me he would miss me. Calder must have been having one pretty frightening fever hallucination. My heart was breaking for him. All I could do was hug his hot little self and tell him that I would stay with him until he felt better. Eventually the bath and the medicine helped and he stopped thinking that he was going to die but he certainly doesn't feel much better today. He is still feverish and if we get much past the every 4 hour Tylenol dosage it spikes back up over 101 again. Still no other symptoms than that rash. At the moment, the internet has me convinced he has scarlet fever but that could change depending how much of WebMD Wen's nap let's me get through. At least we are going to the hospital for her butt scan tomorrow. Perhaps with can get a two-for-one deal on sick kids.

Correction

2011-08-06T18:51:00.000-05:00

Senor Purplehands actual name is ~~Wolverine~~ Logan Matthew Bard, born 8/4/11. Seven pounds, three ounces at 10:54 p.m.

There are two males in this photo. Neither looks old enough to be a dad.

Once again, congrats to my brother and his wife. Have fun with your tiny X-Man. Calder is already incredibly confused.

Friday Film Fest: The Re-Festening

2011-08-05T20:08:00.000-05:00

I call this one The Conversation. It's just like Coppola's version except it's a lot shorter and much less boring.

I'd say it's pretty clear that Bruce has some difficulty relating to children.

Congrats!

2011-08-05T10:12:00.000-05:00

To Matt and Kristin on the birth of my newest nephew, Senor Purplehands*. It took a long time to get him in there and an even longer time to get him out. There's a chance the boy may have been born holding a diploma is what I am saying.

*Not his actual name.

Early Bird

2011-08-05T05:15:00.000-05:00

This is being written from my couch at 5 am on my iPod. Someone had been sleeping through the night and well into the morning but that seems to be over for now. Base on Wren's recent habits of gnawing on everything in sight and drooling like a mastiff, I'd say there is a sincere possibility that she is going to be an early teether like her brother. Woo effing hoo. Fortunately the little miss is still her regular cheerful self 85% of the time. But why does that other 15% have to happen so early in the morning?

The Internet Scares Me

2011-08-04T15:05:00.000-05:00

And no, I am not talking about finally signing up for Twitter (@LeahBeBop by the way), a momentous occasion that was somewhat lessened by the fact that I discovered my mother already had an account. What I am talking about is Wen's butt dimple. We finally got a call from the ped's office to go ahead and schedule the ultrasound on her butt. Actually, I was told to schedule an "ultrasound of the spine". Uhhh, that sounds way scarier than butt dimple.

When I was on the phone with the radiology people I was asked what the reason was for the ultrasound. Since I didn't know the medical verbage I said what I normally say, "Butt Dimple". When the scheduler finally stopped laughing she informed me that it is actually referred to as a sacral dimple. So not the scary sounding fistula thingy I thought it might have been. Yay!

But wait just a second, no Yay! I just Googled sacral dimple and came up with this from the Mayo Clinic site:

Definition

By Mayo Clinic staff

Sacral dimple

A sacral dimple is an indentation, present at birth, in the skin on the lower back. It's usually located just above the crease between the buttocks. Also called pilonidal dimples, most sacral dimples are small and shallow. Sometimes, a sacral dimple may be accompanied by increased hair growth in this area.

Most of the time, sacral dimples are harmless and don't require any treatment. Rarely, a sacral dimple may indicate a serious underlying abnormality of the spine or spinal cord.

To rule out any abnormality, your child's doctor may recommend an imaging test. If an abnormality is discovered, treatment depends on the underlying cause.

Excuse me? Serious Spinal Abnormality?! Jigga wha? Holy hell that is way more terrifying than a butt dimple should be. I do love that increased hair growth is also a symptom. I mean, girl looks like a Wookie from behind. I guess we will find out next Wednesday whether there is real cause for panic or if it's just another close call like Calder's skull was. Until then, I have the fear mongering internet to keep me company.

Wordless Wednesday: White Sox Edition

2011-08-03T01:55:00.001-05:00

Craft Works II

2011-08-02T12:30:00.000-05:00

Having checked off nearly every item from the original Craft Works post, save #1, I am ready to set myself a new list of projects to ignore for months on end. Going back to work is really going to cut into my crafty times. For the record, project #1, the throw blanket, would have been completed eons ago except for the fact that instead of having a nearly whole roll of batting as I had originally thought, I actually have a nearly whole roll of batting with a giant effing oval cut out of the middle. So. New list then until I can get myself some new batting. This one is not all sewing. Just mostly.

A. Painting Calder's dresser and bedroom desk. Both items were pulled out of the alley in our old 'hood and while not in the worst condition, they could definitely be made more attractive. Plus, they will add a nice pop of color to his room since we are not currently allowed to paint the walls. This is currently in process.

B. Crafting my very own nursing cover. I see them online for $30 or so which isn't unreasonable but I can get a yard of fabric for way less and I found a nice tutorial from the same site where I got the blanky directions. I look forward to a day when I can feed Wren in public without the fear of Calder ripping off the blanket and exposing my boobs to the greater Chicagoland area.

C. Drapes/curtains for the kids' rooms. Once again, an attempt to solve the whole White Walls Make Leah Insane issue.

D. Calder's Halloween costume. This year he wants to be Batman. At first it was going to be Wolverine but when he saw the cover to my Totally Not Poor Knockoffs of Copyrighted Images Superhero Costumes pattern he had difficult imagining the outfit in the right colors and changed his preference to the much more recognizable Chiroptera Guy. I am going to make this in the old Adam West colors and it is going to be AMAZING. Wren will get recycled costumes until she is old enough to have an opinion.

E. Random collection of room decor for Wren. Perhaps a fabric banner, or a cool button art project I saw online. I may even take a stab at making her a mobile and use up that batting finally so it will stop taunting me with its giant hole.

So that's five-ish new projects. Technically the furniture painting is two and E is a whole mess of whatever. At some point I will stop looking at fancy-ass designer fabrics online and start making shit.

Relapse

2011-07-31T19:33:00.000-05:00

I don't know if it's the baby or perhaps it has to do with me going back to work temporarily, but Calder has been having potty accidents as of late. He's had a few bed wetting incidents along with some pretty frequent day time problems. Thankfully, it is only number one. The night thing isn't that big of a deal, we usually don't let him have too much to drink after 7 pm but sometimes he will sneak off to the bathroom and chug water until one of us notices and shuts it down. On those nights we just have to hope that Calder will be able to wake himself up enough to go use the bathroom. Sometimes it happens and sometimes it doesn't. Lucky guy has always got the cleanest sheets in the house, I'll say that.

During the day Calder tends to get so involved in whatever it is he is doing that he either forgets to head to the bathroom when he needs to go or else he just doesn't care. I hope it's the former but sometimes I am not so sure. We frequently have to wrestle him out of his pee-stink clothing and into a fresh set of clothes because he is perfectly content to wallow in his awfulness. There have been days in the past few weeks where Calder has gone through four or five sets of bottoms in a day. Calder even tried to fake me out the other day by claiming that he had changed pants because there was peanut butter smeared on the old pair. He's a sneaky one. Unfortunately it's been in the mid-to-high 90s for the last two weeks so withholding liquids isn't really an option. Basically we are having to retrain him all over again. Either Bruce or I have been making him stop whatever it is he is doing and go to the bathroom every 30 minutes to an hour. At night, if Calder hasn't gone to sleep within an hour of putting him to bed, I will roust him for one last potty break just in case.

I don't want to go back to putting him in pull-ups, the kid has been potty trained for almost a full year now but on the bad days I am not sure what other options we really have. If the forced bathroom marches don't put Calder back on track, especially in two weeks when I have officially started back at work, Bruce and I are going to try a reward chart system. For every time Calder goes on his own without being told he'll get a sticker, every time he has an accident, he'll lose a sticker. When Calder accumulates something like 20 stickers, he'll get a reward. A new Hotwheels or monster truck or Bakugan or whatever. Just something cheap and easily obtained at Walgreens. While keeping track of the whole sticker part is pretty simple actually implementing the system will involve a lot of unfortunate crotch sniffing. Wish us luck. Or wish Bruce the luck as the case may be, there will be no pee sniffing in my future because in two weeks I'll be safely ensconced in my cube.

I Did It! #5

2011-07-28T17:31:00.002-05:00

That's right. I made a blankie, yo. Two of them in fact. They are made, not well, but made. I imagine Wren, someday, sitting on the bed in her dorm room, her roommate picks up a blanket and gives her a quizzical look. "Sigh, I know.", she says, "She meant well."

Doesn't look to bad from far away.

I am aware that dark grey is kind of a weird color for a baby blanket but I like to think I balanced it with the butterfly print and the pink (I know, right?) binding.

This is very girly.

I used this tutorial to make Wren's blankets. I would not say this is an appropriate project for the beginner seamstress but it's pretty much just being able to sew in a straight line several times over. Oh, and figuring out how to make your possessed sewing machine do a zig zag stich. The mitered corners on the binding were a bit tricky but by the second blanket, I was blazing through them. It also helped that by that point I had given up on trying to make the seams look nice. Sewing straight lines is more difficult than you might imagine.

It seems to work OK.

Wordless Wednesday: Giraffe Two Ways

2011-07-27T10:24:00.000-05:00

To Nap, or Not to Nap?

2011-07-25T08:46:00.000-05:00

Calder has started transitioning to a no naps per day lifestyle. I will be totally honest, the process is miserable. Depending on what time we went to bed, what time he woke up and how well he slept, Calder can be counted on to either take a late afternoon nap, take no nap and be a cranktopus hell beast by 5:30 or be a pleasant and congenial being until he calmly takes himself to bed 20 minutes early. I wish there was a way to predict which it will be but unfortunately a late bedtime does not equal a late wake up and a sleepless night does not necessarily mean we'll all get a nice morning lie in. The naps he does take aren't always an orchestrated affair either. Bruce has reported that two times last week the boy has fallen asleep somewhere on the living room floor.

Like the other day. Calder would not go to sleep on Friday night. He was too wound up from something. No idea. Bruce and I were exhausted so we compromised by sticking him in bed, telling him he could do what he wanted as long as he stayed in there and then just going to sleep ourselves. I could hear him dithering about in his room until well past 11. So of course he gets up at 5:30 freaking AM on Saturday. Just as the baby starts sleeping through the night (6 nights in a row!) Calder becomes an early riser for the first time ever. Thankfully Bruce has early hockey on Saturdays so he was the one to get up and feed and water Calder while I got a few extra minutes of sleep. When Bruce got home shortly after nine, Calder was back in bed, Wren was asleep and I was on the couch reading the Falling Skies message boards on TWoP. You say I should do something useful with these times, I say that that IS useful. By keeping tabs on Not Dr. Carter and cohorts I will know exactly what NOT to do in the event of an alien invasion. Bad sci-fi aside, Calder then went on to take another nap that day and still went to bed before nine. Yet some days he will be awake from 7:30 to midnight with no rest in between. There's just no predicting. It makes it hard to plan activities around his sleep schedule, that's for sure. On a late afternoon trip to Target he could be a docile lamb, falling asleep in the cart, an active charming little boy, or an overtired hell monster that wants nothing more than to throw a tantrum in the Bakugan aisle.

On Wednesday I am taking Calder to an afternoon baseball game by myself. I am scared. The good news is the tickets were free so if I have to drag him out kicking and screaming in the 4th inning no money will have been wasted. Bad news is these were work tickets so there is a 50% chance he will embarrass me in front of superiors. Other than one of my minions, I have no idea who, if anyone else, will be there. The best I can hope for is that Calder naps on the train on the way there, gets enough sleep to carry him through and with a full compliment of hotdogs and lemonade, I will be able to keep him from losing his mind and storming the field.

Calderisms

2011-07-24T18:01:00.000-05:00

Trying to get my iPod or access to the portable DVD player: I like to watch fings on small fings.

Calder: You be nice to me.

Me: Why?

Calder If you are not nice to me I call the police!

I got long legs like Cyborg and Superboy but I not them... I Wolverine.

Night Moves

2011-07-23T08:39:00.000-05:00

For four nights in a row, Wren has slept from 10 pm-ish to 5 am-ish. If Miss Thing keeps this up I will almost certainly try to move her into her own room. The idea of not crashing into the pack n' lay ever time I try to navigate my bedroom in the dark fills me with glee. So does getting a full night's sleep. Of course for that to happen the weather would also have to settle itself down a tad. Hundred degree heat index during the + violent storms at night = Sweaty McKickypants in our bed whimpering, "Fuh-Uh-UNDER!!!" for three nights in a row. As a bonus, Calder's usual choice of zip-up fleece PJ's gets reconsidered sometime shortly after being put down and therefore he comes in to see us completely starkers because he has gotten too hot, the ceiling fan being his enemy and all. It makes funny noises, you see. All this after I totally used a Babies 'R' Us gift card meant for his sister on buying him a bed rail so the dumb dumb would stop falling out. Too bad it wasn't a full-bed cage.